


Fade away into the forest dim

by Niahara_Erskine



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Like molasses slow seriously, M/M, Magical Realism, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 01:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 73,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niahara_Erskine/pseuds/Niahara_Erskine
Summary: A Beast lived in the Castle, it was well-known. A demon spewed by the shadows, a wretched being of evil that demanded a tribute each year. An Offering and a Name. Always both if the village was to be spared forever. Just an Offering if the village was to be spared another year.Kuroko had always known the day would one day come when he would be presented as Offering. When he would pass the borders of the forest and the iron wrought gates. But when such a moment would occur, it would do so on his own terms.





	1. The Hanged Man (XII) - Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeyaniraSan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeyaniraSan/gifts).



_“True Names have power; they are seared into a person’s very being at birth, part of themselves intrinsically tied to their very existence. To know another’s name is to control a part of that person, the essence of their very being, to hold it captive, a victim to the whims of the one who holds such knowledge. True Names offer powers like none other, the power to subjugate, to control, to command the very life and death of one if you so choose._

_True Names will always hold this power, regardless of the way in which they are found. However, the ultimate folly is to offer another your name. Stolen names are dangerous it is true, but present gap holes, the ability to wrestle back ones name from the one holding such knowledge. However, if a person were to offer another their name, their dominion over them would be absolute. No power, no matter how great in this universe, can restore what was offered freely. True Names are not ever offered among spouses; it would be as though one tore out their very soul and presented it to another to do as they wished to them. Once a True Name is uttered aloud, once it is heard by another, it no longer belongs to its owner. Rather it belongs to the person that heard it._

_This is why each child is spellbound, their knowledge of their name locked until they are of age; to protect them from those who would take advantage of their innocence._

_To lose one’s name is to court death. To offer one’s name to another is to surrender yourself completely.”_ ( On the Power of Names, by Mage Harasawa )

It is a well-known rule, one drilled in the minds of all from the moment they are old enough to comprehend. Do not tell another your True Name, do not give them power over you. To offer a True Name is the sign of ultimate trust. To demand another’s True Name is the sign of ultimate malice.

Perhaps this is why the Beast demands both every year. An Offering and a Name, complete power over the victim stepping past the iron wrought gates, along with the promise that should both sacrifices be met the village will be left in peace forevermore.

Perhaps this is why none of the Offerings ever return; why the village must offer yet another sacrifice each year. For offered the choice, all preferred the sweet kiss of Death to the loss of their names.

* * *

 

The shadows had started creeping over the land one day, wrapping tendrils of darkness around all they found in their path, be it man, beast or plant. Crops withered under their touch, the weather soured and a numb coldness replaced it all. The world turned grey; grey fields and homes tended by hopeless people going through the mechanics of each day, mere puppets on strings ruled by the circumstances they now had to adhere to.

The forest bordering the village echoed with the howls of wolves and beasts, fear given voice and form, freezing the very blood in the veins of those unlucky enough to live nearby. There was no talk of hunting anymore; how could it when the best archers the village had to offer entered the forest one day never to be seen. Bones returned now and then; severed limbs and caved in skulls frozen in a rictus of fear rolled past the borders of the village, pushed by unseen hands. A warning and a message: do not step past your boundaries least you wish to lose your lives.

And then there was the castle, the old, derelict vestige of bygone times that had gone uninhabited for so long. The shadows seemed to thrive there the most, locking it in a loving embrace and snuffing out even the slightest sliver of light that dared attempt to pierce the gloom.

A Beast lived in the Castle, it was well-known. A demon spewed by the shadows, a wretched being of evil that demanded a tribute each year. An Offering and a Name. Always both if the village was to be spared forever. Just an Offering if the village was to be spared another year. The Beast was never seen, yet its voice was heard drifting over the gloom of the forest, icy and commanding.

It was folly to try and go against it; yet it has ever been in human nature to rebel and rebel they did. When the Command first came, the villagers took up arms, poised to fight the very darkness that threatened their lives. They did not make it past the outermost border of the woods; the forest ate them up and did not even bother spitting the bones. Crippled by loss, the remaining survivors decided to wait another year, to gather their forces and try anew. And so they sent the first Offering… and another and another.

Decades have passed since then.

* * *

 

The Beast did not care who was to be his Offering; he cared little what passed his threshold, be it man or woman, elderly or in their prime. He cared little for their past or present, for those left behind or those that bid them riddance. The Beast cared only for their answer to his question. Will their relinquish their name freely?

 As such, the Beast had no rule but one regarding his Offerings: never will a child pass the iron-wrought gates.

The villagers had tried, of course they had; desperation, grief, fear, cruelty, all had made strong adults push young children in the woods, breaths kept as they waited for the cries to come and the howls to pierce the night. They never did; come morning the children would be back in their midst, confused looks filling lost gazes and in their place a sacrifice would be chosen randomly, blank eyed and spellbound, dragged in the woods by strings handled by a master puppeteer. These Offerings were not even asked for their choice; their lives were brought to a swift end.

It was such a rule that had spared Kuroko till then. But no longer…

He had expected to be chosen.

He had expected to be chosen ever since his mother had died and his father had been sent in the woods as an Offering. As a child, he had not been eligible, but Kuroko was no longer a child so the villagers could finally do as they wished. Be rid of the one they so desperately wished to see the last of…

The forest path sprawled beneath his feet; overgrown roots and sharp rocks peppering the way forth. The shrill hoot of an owl rang from a nearby branch. His breath coalesced in small, white wisps, dissolving in the frigid air of the woods. It got progressively colder as he made his way forth, the soggy ground giving way to ice and snow as he neared the gate. All around him, in the foliage, golden eyes watched with hungered gazes; he trudged through the snow, one step in front of the other, breathing becoming more and more laborious while he made his way forth. Steps echoed in the air behind him, the crunch of the snow beneath clawed paws sending chunks of ice through his veins.

The shadows became darker as he got closer and closer, oppressive and thick, curling around his ankles while he walked, a sinister grip making him stumble here and there. The gates loomed above him as he neared them, covered in thorns, thick vines curling around the rusted metal almost as though they wished to crumbled it beneath their fury.

Kuroko took a deep breath. The lump longed in his throat refused to dislodge so he covered the few steps left until the fence with his heart hammering like a hummingbird in his chest. A howl echoed to his right, sharp and hungered. His hand – pale and trembling – rose to touch the metal, to push it open, but the gates swung open out of their own according, a mocking beckoning of welcome. Past the gates, the grounds seemed silent. An unnatural stillness kept everything frozen; no hint of life permeated the emptiness of his surroundings.

It was well known. Birds did not sing in the realm of the Beast. Animals did not thrive there. All scurried in fear of the darkness surrounding the castle and its master.

There was no turning back. Without a moment of hesitation, the blue haired boy squared his shoulders and marched forth in the awaiting gloom. Behind him the doors swung shut, a rusty screech of disuse echoing in the air before all became submerged in silence once more.

* * *

If it’s a Beast it can be slain. If It’s a Demon it can be banished. If it’s a curse it can be lifted.

Such had been the mantra of the villagers in the very beginning, back when their fearful letters had been sent to the king, begging for aid in face of the terror that usurped them. Knights had come then, clad in silvery armor, with sword hanging at their hips and the lust for war, for glory ripe in their eyes. Clerics had come as well, garbed in their flowing black robes, holy books in hand and the light of faith shrouding them in a wave of confidence. Last had come the mages, power cracking beneath their fingers, golden eyed and solemn, their march forth neither as boisterous as that of the knights, nor as confident as that of the priests. They, of all three, knew there was something inherent wrong in the woods, but they had come to try and try they did no matter the outcome.

The forest still tosses their belonging back to the village now and then; rusty sword bent at unnatural angles are brought to the border by twisting vines slithering over the ground. The thorn pages of holy books drift in the wind, floating lazily before combusting as they reach the main square. Wands and staves, broken and splintered, their magical conducts devoid of power roll at the feet of children who pick them up and use them as weapons in their makeshift games.

The forest does not allow fools to weather its paths. It takes and it takes and it takes until all that is left is a husk of the being that once was or a shambling corpse lying in a ditch somewhere. And those are the lucky ones; for there are some that are not fools. Some that are strong and witty, that know to navigate its paths and evade its dangers. For those, the castle remains as final destination. One from which they can never return.

They may be strong. They may be smart. But the Beast has never tasted defeat. And none of those that had passed the threshold of the castle have ever returned.

* * *

 

It was perhaps jarring to think that no matter what he would have done, the outcome was to always be this. A lonely march past the gates of the castle, through the dead garden shrouded in shadow and silence. It should have been disheartening, Kuroko thought, but all that he was able to feel as the snow gave way under his steps and the seemingly sentient vines parted for him, was relief.

Relief to be away; relief to break free of the vitriol spewed by the villagers each time they laid eyes upon him.

_Demon child, damned child_

The jeers had started ever since he had been a mere babe, swaddled in his mother’s arms. From the very first moment they had laid eyes upon him, blue hair and cerulean eyes making a stark contrast with the visage of the other inhabitants.

_Moon child, cursed child_

A waning moon had gleamed above their heads as his father had beheld him the first time, the joy of a newborn eclipsed by the looks of horror, of disgust plastered on the faces of those near them. Superstition had ever ruled the village and with the appearance of the Beast all that looked different was deemed otherworldly, tainted.

_Ghost child, blighted child_

He realized early on that they were not able to see him at all times. They looked through him, a veritable living ghost treading the paths of the village, unseen and often unheard. The shadows protected him, the light of the moon hid him and as he found himself alone, Kuroko learned to use them more and more.

His mother had been his fierce protector. She had loved him with every fiber of her being until sickness has stolen her from him; the scent of her lily perfume, the warmth of her hug and the brightness of her smile still clung to his memory.

His father must have loved him too, for he had fought for Kuroko when the villagers had damned him with merely a glance, raged against their bigoted, superstitious views. He had been chosen as Offering when Kuroko had been a toddler still clinging to his mother’s skirts, been ripped apart from his family and sacrificed to the woods. There were no memories of him left, but his scarf hung loosely around Kuroko’s neck as he made his way forth.

_Demon child, ghost child_

To be unseen is not to be unknown. As soon as he had passed the threshold past childhood, Kuroko had realized what was to come, the sealing of a fate long in the making. He had preferred to leave on his own terms, to strip them of this ultimate victory. Satchel in hand, he had remained elusive until the day had come and when it did, he had passed the border by himself, under the furious eyes of the villagers.

Hours from that moment, with the forest and the gardens left behind, he moved past the imposing stone fountain and reached the bottom of the stairs to the castle, twisted gargoyles guarding them on each side. Ice coated the stone surfaced, the air more frigid than anywhere else, the shadows present as always. His hand grabbed the railing tightly, gloveless fingers almost blue due to the weather’s capricious nature. A step, another and another, careful footsteps seeking purchase on the slippery surface and finally the journey was at an end.

The doors swung open by themselves as the gates had, a single flickering candle beckoning him inside. A shaky breath wrecked his body; the instinct to flee when met with dangerous circumstances gripped his heart tightly. Inside, the castle was dark and dusty, cobwebs illuminated by the pale light. He shook, trembling from fear and cold, his limbs almost numb. The wind picked up pace as he stood undecided, pressing at him mercilessly, making his mind up for him.

_No turning back, no turning back, no turning back._

Steely resolve washed over him, determination bursting over apprehensive features. His feet moved out of their own accord, leading Kuroko inside, deeper and deeper as the candle that had lingered almost in the doorway before, moved further and further away. A loud bang echoed in the castle, a signal that the doors had been closed.

A chuckle echoed from the darkness, the sound of icy amusement and Kuroko froze, eyes flickering to every corner, squinted gaze trying to discern anything in the gloom.

“Such a tiny offering,” darkness wrapped around the words uttered, the promise of danger bleeding through seemingly soft spoken syllables. “Were I not to know better, I would peg you for a child still.”

Kuroko froze, his body tuning immobile as the voice came nearer and nearer, bringing the shadows along with it, obscuring the remaining vestiges of light. The boy alone seemed to be illuminated, a tiny gleam in the encompassing darkness. “My servants reassured me otherwise. What is it that they called you? An Offering that offered itself. Most curious indeed. How many of your peers had to be forcefully pushed past the threshold? How many broke down and wept, begged for mercy as they ventured in my woods? How many tried to turn back, not realizing it was too late? And yet you moved past the border out of your own volition…”

A hand broke out of the gloom, resting on Kuroko’s shoulder and making him flinch at the sudden touch. The skin was pale, milky white, long, elegant fingers framed by black claws resting in the simplest of grasp on the woolen cloth of Kuroko’s clothes, and yet betraying a deceptively strong grip. “Impressive and yet so utterly foolish,” the voice continued, a derisive edge to the utterly inhuman tone.  “Tell me, little offering, are you a fool to walk such into the Beast’s lair? Do you love your peers so much?” A scoff at the word love, vitriol coating the four letters spoken almost with fury, though the tone remained calm, yet commandeering. An answer was expected and one had to be given.

“I wished to be rid of them. There are not many ways in which that was achievable,” the boy replied, voice calm and collected, betraying none of the turmoil he felt inside. His blue gaze remained blank, unfeeling, features schooled into a mask of uninterested politeness that had kept him alive till then.

He did not expect the Beast to come closer out of a sudden, echoes of feet shuffling forth, dragging the shadows with him. He did not expect the grip on his shoulder to tighten and a pair of eyes to glint in the darkness – mismatched, one red, one gold. Neither did he expect the laughter coming from the other, rich with amusement as his features seemed to bleed out from the shadows, coalescing into a deceptively human face.

“Interesting. You are an interesting Offering,” a grin split the other’s features, a glimpse of sharp teeth given as his lips parted briefly in amusement, gaze riveted on the blue haired boy. The rest of his body remained firmly surrounded by darkness, a caressing embrace of a deadly lover and Kuroko wondered briefly whether the Beast commanded the shadows or whether the shadows themselves chose to subject themselves to his rule.

“Tell me little Offering, will you give me what I seek? Will you give me your name or shall I devour you whole?”

Kuroko did not need time to think; his mind had been made up the moment he had stepped through the circle of trees, the cold forest accepting him as Offering.

“Tetsuya. My name is Tetsuya,” and his blue eyes glinted with a new sort of determination, cerulean gaze meeting the mismatched one of the Beast squarely. The Beast laughed, a chilling crow of amusement and the shadows parted, revealing him fully for the first time. Black wings, leathery and spindly, unfurled at his back, their tips brushing the cobbled floor. Red hair gleamed in the semi-darkness, a dying sunset scarlet as fey like as Kuroko’s own sky blue, tousled strands. A pair of ivory black horns jutted out above the Beast’s slightly pointed ears, arching back in wicked sharp tips. He looked demonic, otherworldly, and yet Kuroko did not quail nor cower at the sight.

“Tetsuya,” the Beast crooned, a crooked grin twisting his features. “Tetsuya,” he repeated, the syllables rolling off his tongue as if tasting them, victory palpable in the simple word. “You may call me Akashi.”


	2. The Moon (XVIII) - Illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are rules to this place, my Offering,” Akashi suddenly spoke. “Rules that you must follow should you wish to keep your life. Riddles you must answer if you are to survive,” a careless grin settled on his features, eyes alight with anticipation. He was toying with the other, like a cat holding a mouse captive in its paws. Apprehension washed over Kuroko, the knowledge that matters were but at a start, the feeling of the unknown weighing on his shoulders. The villagers had never known; they had surrendered to death as soon as the offer had been made. But Kuroko wished to live, even bereft of a True Name as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'm blown by the number of Kudos the first chapter received and the kind words in your comments.  
> Thank you so very much!

_“There is no remembering when True Name have burst into existence. Historical records tell us they have not always been present, but no one is able to reach an accord what event marked their birth. It simply remains known that one day, awareness washed over the citizens of the land, their True Names searing themselves in their minds. Their dangers were not perceived from the very beginning; true names were exchanged freely in the beginning, spouses sharing them with one another, comrades of arms offering such knowledge to the ones they trusted their lives with, siblings innocently uttering them out loud to the ones they shared blood with._

_History still remembers the strong, three-fold bond between Generals Kiyoshi, Hyuuga and Aida, a formidable trio that had shared True Names among them and used their powers to create unbreachable and successful war strategies. Their victories, legendary even nowadays, led their land to a prolonged time of prosperity and peace that lasted up to their death. However, despite such tales that are present in popular recollection, the stories of betrayal are more prevalent when linked to the powers of True Names._

_Perhaps one of the most disastrous stories of betrayal linked to True Names related to the members of the Kirisaki Daiichi knights. Unscrupulous, cunning and remorseless, the knights took advantage of the freedom with which True Names were shared in those times and gathered an army subservient to their will, a squad of slaves they commandeered in order to win lands and wars alike, sacrificing their lives with no remorse. The people had no way of fighting back, the names either offered or stolen, keeping them tight in the clutches of the knights. It wasn’t until they sought to attack Seirin, the land ruled by the trio of Generals mentioned before that they tasted defeat. The legendary generals managed to decimate the Kirisaki Daiichi knights, remove the threat forevermore, but not without heavy losses._

_Unfortunately, the knights were just the beginning. Drunk with the power to control their peers, more and more people started using True Names for ill. In time, the uttering of a True Name became a taboo, a fear permeating in all lands._

_To share your True Name with another is to trust that person: heart, body and soul.”_ ( On the history of True Names by Mage Takeuchi )

* * *

 

The Beast gazed at him intently, the same sardonic smile plastered firmly on Akashi’s face as he stood in amused, victorious silence for a few moments. At his reveal, the shadows had parted slightly, scurried away from the presence of the Castle’s Master, keeping firmly to the sidelines until they were to be summoned again. Candles started coming alight all over the castle, shedding a dim brilliance over the entire expanse of the antechamber they found themselves in.

Spiraling staircases rose from the cobbled ground, leading east and west, the entrances to what must be the castle’s wings. There was a sad grandeur to the place, a sort of tragic beauty that painted what must have once been beauty and light, in dusty hallways and shadowed rooms. However, there was something else clinging to the castle’s walls, something past the Beast standing in front of him and the shadow waiting his command, that spoke of a wrongness, a twisted sort of half-existence that embraced it with abandon.

“There are rules to this place, my Offering,” Akashi suddenly spoke. “Rules that you must follow should you wish to keep your life. Riddles you must answer if you are to survive,” a careless grin settled on his features, eyes alight with anticipation. He was toying with the other, like a cat holding a mouse captive in its paws. Apprehension washed over Kuroko, the knowledge that matters were but at a start, the feeling of the unknown weighing on his shoulders. The villagers had never known; they had surrendered to death as soon as the offer had been made. But Kuroko wished to live, even bereft of a True Name as he was.

“The castle is shrouded in everlasting winter, little Offering. The snow does not melt. The wolves never leave. The shadows see all. Stepping past the gardens is ill advised. Trying to flee, well, that would be tantamount to throwing your life away. I do not believe you are so foolish. The west wing of the castle is off limits; do not pass its threshold no matter what you do, for I will not be lenient.” Mismatched eyes flashed with a moment of fury, the only loss of composure present on Akashi’ features.

However, despite his threat, the Beast had not uttered Kuroko’s True Name; apart from the first moment, when Akashi had reveled in this triumph, never once had he spoken Kuroko’s name while laying down the rules. It was a test, that much the blue haired boy could see. A test whose failure would end in death. A test that demanded absolute obeisance for a chance of survival. Kuroko had no wish to surrender that chance so easily. Nothing awaited him past the borders of the gardens, back in the village that had shunned him so. All that was left was to move forth; a dangerous game of chess where the stakes were the highest and he was merely a pawn, facing an opponent much more skilled than him. The odds had ever been against him; it would have been a surprising chance were they to twist in his favor.

“You hold my name. You could order me not to pass the gardens, were you so inclined.” His voice remained as polite as ever, collected and cool. Showing emotions was a weakness, a chink in an armor wrapped much too tightly around his very being.

“If I were so inclined,” the Beast echoed the statement, a dismissive edge to his words. “I am not. You are interesting, offering and you have already gotten further than the rest of your lot. But I will not aid you, no matter how interesting you might be. There is more hiding in the shadows than the monster of the villagers’ nightmares,” he grinned, dangerous and cutting, a humorless sort of smile that echoed the darkness of the world. “If you wish to survive, you must discover the castle’s secrets for yourself. But that is to come later; you are half-frostbitten. Come, Tetsuya!”

The command sent a jolt through Kuroko’s very being, wrapping around his limbs before he even had the chance to allow himself to move. His feet started shuffling forth, obedient as they followed the path set by Akashi. At the top of the swirling staircase, a large hallway opened, torches flickering on both its sides, illuminating heavy wooden doors with carvings etched in their fibre – vines, twisted and curving, filling the dark brown surface, golden edges framing the corners of the door. Each door seemed to be an identical mirror to the one in front of it, no element distinguishing between them.

“Bedchambers. You may choose the one that appeals to you most. The wardrobe should fill itself accordingly afterwards. Dinner is served at seven, sharp. I expect you not to be late.” Kuroko nodded wordlessly, fingers moving to trace the carvings on the door.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi spoke as he turned his back on the blue haired boy, wings flaring in silent warning at his back. “I expect you to be better at this game of survival than the rest of your witless peers. Do not disappoint me.”

The same jolt as before flared in Kuroko’s soul, a sharp, demanding need flaring within him, as well as a sort of warning ache settling into his bones. Before he had a chance to answer, Akashi had disappeared, the corridor remaining as dim-lit and silent as before.

“No turning back,” Kuroko squared his shoulders, hands pushing open the nearest door and stepping inside. The same grandeurs that encompassed the rest of the castle was present in the room; the same loneliness as well. However, in comparison to the other rooms, it seemed clean; fresh linens covered the four-poster bed, the drapes a striking shade of scarlet, complimenting perfectly the russet carpet lying on the stone floor. A nondescript wardrobe stood to the side, the same carvings present on the door acting as ornaments. The only element that preserved the dusty appearance of the rest of the castle was the mirror, small and gilded, propped on the northern wall, a white sheen of grime covering it in its entirety.

“No turning back.” The door closed at Kuroko’s prompting, a sound of finality ringing in the air. No turning back. Not then, not ever.

* * *

 

Dinner was a silent affair, a game of assessment between the two. The meal was lavish, more so than anything the boy had seen in his life, an array of exotic foods and traditional meals. And yet, no matter how filling and tasty, there was something wrong with the food as it was with the rest of the castle. The flavor did not linger, dulling as the last bite was taken, flavor lost, fading to ash and cardboard. The rich sweetness of the desert soured at the end, tartness replacing that which had once tasted delicious.  

Mismatched red-gold eyes bore into cerulean ones, but neither spoke until the meal had come to an end. Kuroko kept the same mask of dull disinterest on, emotions and questions masked behind layers and layers of survival instincts kicking in, information filling in even as he carefully assessed everything around him.

“Was the meal to your liking, little offering?” The question broke the silence out of the blue, an inquiry so mundane that for the briefest of moments Kuroko floundered to answer it.

“It was,” a simple reply, a half-lie but also a half-truth. In the village, a damned orphan as himself had often spent the day with hunger gnawing at his insides. The food of the castle, though strange with its metamorphosis, was filling nonetheless, chasing the hunger away and replenishing the strength lost during the trudge through the woods.

“Very well.” In a fluid motion, Akashi rose from his seat, ebony wings twitching at his back when he moved. The embers of the fireplace mirrored in his gaze, the same sort of anticipation present as he beheld Kuroko. It made the boy wonder what exactly the Beast was seeking, what was the riddle that wrapped the castle and its Master in mystery. “The shadows cling to you, little offering. Not with malice, like they did to the others, but with a sense of camaraderie. An interesting turn of events.”

“The others?” Confusion laced the two words, furrowed brows breaking for a moment the impassive look settled comfortably on Kuroko’s features. The tales said that all those who refused so offer their names, died the very next moment.

“I do not delight in human flesh, Tetsuya,” Akashi replied casually, “The shadows are the ones that demand payment from the Offerings. It would get tedious if all those that passed the gates were to meet their end the very same day. They are pawns in a game of chess; how many moves they are able to make depends on their skills. Few made it far; most tried to cling to the protection of their room until starvation and despair pushed them past the threshold.”

“And the question?” There was no need to mention which question Kuroko referred to. They both knew it; the very question that Kuroko had answered differently than the rest.

“The first test. The first lie. This castle is wrapped in both. The game cannot be won without the offering of a name.”

“Another riddle?” Kuroko asked casually, half expecting no answer to be given to his inquiry.

“Perhaps. Though answers can be found if one knows where to seek them. No knowledge is ever truly lost, merely misplaced.” With these parting words, Akashi disappeared from sight, the shadows gathering to obscure his departure. In the dining room the candles flickered slightly, their light cowering in face of the darkness, before blazing once more.

Light and shadow. Kuroko nodded to himself, the first tendrils of an idea gathering in his mind. He rose from his seat, steps taking him back to his bedroom before the castle plunged into darkness. He had not forgotten Akashi’s warnings, those spoken and those left unspoken; there was a danger to the shadows, regardless of their apparent predilection for Kuroko. To linger needlessly in their midst after nightfall would be folly. The flickering lights were already dying out… And if his bedroom was a safe spot, Kuroko would take advantage of a good night’s sleep before another day dawned. Come morning, he would seek the library and answers to the mystery he had found himself tied to.

* * *

 

_“The villagers are fools, superstitious fools that see but do not comprehend. They glimpse ghosts in the shadows, monsters in the castle, doom in their midst. They babble, frightened, dark glances thrown at the gloom surrounding them, but fail to understand what truly matters. They called for us and we came, but we need no more than a glance to tell that the matters are well beyond our powers. We will try, for we have sworn, but I fear it is here that we shall all meet our doom._

_The wolves patrol the perimeter of the forest, beast of great height and strength that have not been seen in other parts of our world since the dawn of time. The weather acts to aid them, blizzards picking up pace if one that is not an Offering steps foot inside the woods. And then there’s the shadows, always moving, grasping, merciless. Twisted and cursed; I fear to name what they once were, for if I am right, an act more vile than anything imaginable has been dealt. Such magic should have been lost to time and never retrieved again._

_After, comes the garden, a sprawling mass of land that must have once burst with life. Now it is dead, frozen in time, immobile. One untuned to the acts of magic might perceive it as simply an oddity surrounding the castle, but the unnatural stillness of the gardens is anything but. It is a breach of the laws of magic, the result of twisting the laws of nature until they bend to your whim. To have made it as far as this, is a miracle in itself, but I fear this is where my journey ends. Already my lungs seize, the curse freezing the very air in my lungs. A foolish mistake, to have touched the gargoyle, an act of hubris and curiosity that shall lead to my end. I leave this notes to my peers, in case their mission does not end the same way as mine._

_If it does I hope that you, however you are that might have found these notes, will be able to succeed where we have failed. There is more at stake here than a mere village, much more than you could ever imagine.”_


	3. The Tower (XVI) - Unseen Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes I marvel how little the villagers truly understand. How much they have forgotten. Their stories have lost so much of their truth until nary a grain remains any longer. Lies and twisted imagination, dooming villager, after villager, because they simply do not remember. Their monster is a lie, a scapegoat hiding the true evil, yet another like all of us, one that sees more than the rest combined. However, there are patterns to this game, rules that must be adhered to and he cannot break them even if he wished. The Beast is a key but the lock must be opened by another. Remember! The castle is wrapped in lies and disbelief. Trust nothing but your instinct. Trust no one but yourself. Beware the moonless night for that is when they come.”

 

_“There are some who believe True Names were never meant to happen; they were a backslash, the result of an act abominable enough to shake the very foundations of magic, to twist its laws irremediably in the cruelest of ways. Shamans will speak of such a belief, closeted around their forest circles, the vapors of their concoctions shrouding their features in smoke. A travesty, they will call True Names, unnatural, wrong, a taint in the Natural Order. They will curse their existence and whisper unintelligible phrases in their mother tongue. True Names are a lie, they will later add, powers that have been twisted beyond comprehension until the very truth lying at their core has been forgotten. The stories we hear of them nowadays are insidious half-truths that have been turning us against one another for centuries._

_The shaman of the northern tribes even go as far as denying their True Name, undergoing blood rituals as soon as they are of age in order to erase them. Some die in the process, some lose their minds and yet all agree this is the course of action to be taken. They claim collective memory tells of a great wrong done in the past, one that was the catalyst for the existence of True Names. However, they are unable to explain what that great wrong might have been.”_ ( Superstitions and religious beliefs by Mage Kagetora )

\---

Whereas the rest of the castle was silence, the library was chaos, a patchwork of tattered pages and parchments, drenched in splashed of ink. To make sense of it was laborious work, as handwritten notes overlapped with magically etched letters strewn carelessly over the scattered papers. Books littered the ground, their covers torn and teared, their spines bent to the point of no return. The entire place was covered in a thin layer of dust and grime, unbefitting of a library, yet alone one belonging to a castle.

Kuroko remained undaunted; his long-forgotten breakfast casually laid near him – vanilla pudding and a small assortment of fruit that had burst into existence upon his entry in the empty dining room – he shuffled through book, paper and parchment seeking to unlock the mysteries of the Castle. It was slow going work; mad ravings and fearful scribbles peppered the majority of the writings. Journals, some held by Offerings and some by the few survivors sent by the King that made it to the Castle showed more promise of offering answers, but even those were littered with superstitions, questions and terror of what lurked in the dark.

The fireplace creaked in the room; the scribbles of quill on paper, the slow drip of ink filled the remaining silence with a pleasant hum that seemed to cast part of the gloom aside; it was lonely, though not overwhelmingly so. The pleasant weight of the books on the table, the sound of the logs burning in the flames and his own breath, still laborious after the trudge through the cold forest the day before, came as a welcoming change from the fearful, self-imposed solitary existence that had accompanied him at all times in the village.

Perhaps to those used to the hustle and bustle of society, the silence of the castle and the looming presence of the Beast – of Akashi, Kuroko corrected himself mentally – was enough to break them, to make them crack. To drive them past the gates, back in the forest and the jaws of the wolves.

_‘I can’t stand it anymore. I’m leaving this hellhole. I don’t care, it’s impossible. There is no answer to be found, it’s a deathtrap. The shadows always lurking, reaching for me. I can feel their touch. And his gaze, that demonic, malevolent gaze. I can face a few dozen wolves, I’m a knight, I can, I can, I can…’_

Perhaps for some, the solitude was enough to make them foolhardy, to drive them to try and slide a dagger between Akashi’s ribs, to set fire to the castle and see the blazing fire chase away the lurking shadows.

_‘He was wrong to send us. Wrong, wrong, wrong so very wrong. Kasuga died for nothing; Sakamoto died in vain. But I won’t; I won’t crawl on my belly like a witless worm, waiting death to claim me. There is no breaking this curse, but I can kill him. Kill him and burn this place down until the fires eat away at the shadows. Then there’s going to be only the forest and that forsaken sepulcher.’_

Kuroko could see when they snapped; when their writing changed from hopeful to resigned and then when terror took over. They feared the shadows. They feared Akashi. Many feared a curse only they seemed to be able to discern – those were perhaps the magic users. They feared the mirrors and the light and the dark. But above all they feared something all left unnamed.

_‘Beware the shadows. Beware the Beast. Beware the Sepulcher. But above all beware that which guides them. Things are not as they seem. Beware.’_

Kuroko held no such fears; his life had been wrestled from fate, day after day after day spent in the midst of those who abhorred his very existence. The shadows of the village had been his allies, his protectors, and even now the shadows of the castle felt more reassuring than threatening.

“I trust your reading has been enlightening,” a hand settled on Kuroko’s shoulders, the silent approach making the boy fight back a flinch. Akashi stood beside him, half-shrouded in shadows still, his features barely visible in the gloom clinging to his very being.

“It has been up until Akashi-san interrupted me,” the teal haired boy answered in a flat voice, thinly veiled disapproval lingering in cerulean eyes.

“You have been closeted in this dusty old room for hours now, Tetsuya,” the other pointed out nonchalantly. “Lunch is about to be served and I expect you to accompany me when the moment comes.”

“And if I were to refuse?” An emotionless inquiry, one that conveyed neither curiosity nor rebellion, and yet a spark flared in Kuroko’s gaze, before dying out. Assessment if nothing else.

“I could always make it an order, Tetsuya,” Akashi replied, an edge to the way in which he uttered Kuroko’s True Name, a clear warning that left the other undaunted.

“And what would Akashi-san gain from such an order?” Kuroko challenged tonelessly. ”It would be quite a petty use of my True Name.” Despite his words, his hands were already working on gathering his scattered notes, attention focused on the task at hand and not the master of the Castle.

The shadows gathered around Akashi, hiding the somewhat startled expression on his face that soon morphed to amusement. Interesting, such an interesting little offering. Brave enough to challenge him even knowing that Akashi held complete power over him. Fearless when others stronger and commanding forces more powerful than him had quivered in their boots at the mere sight of the Beast.

There was something about the boy, an enigma that Akashi wanted to unravel just as Kuroko tried to discover the mysteries of the castle. Part of Akashi actually wondered whether either of them would be successful. Another part of him desperately wanted them to be, but he snuffed it before it would have time to grow. Hope let to disappointment; there was no need to nurture such useless emotions.

He retreated to the shadows, allowed them to mask his existence entirely as he headed towards the dining room.

Unsurprisingly, the blue haired boy failed to arrive in time for lunch.

\---

“Do you play chess, Tetsuya?” The question startled Kuroko out of his reverie, eyes moving from the parchment he had been scanning to the Master of the House. They had been spending the past several hours together, in companionship silence, in one of the many salons of the castle. As soon as he had arrived, Akashi had busied himself with a book, making no mention of Kuroko’s failure in joining him for lunch. The teal-haired boy had also played the card of oblivious innocence, continuing to read the many papers he had liberated from the library.

“I have, on occasion. My mother taught me and we used to play in the evenings, while she was still alive.” Afterwards, playing chess had been the least of his worries. Survival became tantamount and frivolities were cast aside; he had liked to indulge once in a while, when foreigners passed through the village, beckoning them to a game of chess if they took note of his presence. One of them, a knight that had remained in the village the longest, had been abysmal at the game. Still, he indulged Kuroko’s requests each time.  It ached sometimes, to think of Izuki-san and his puns, as bad as his chess play and yet still silly enough to draw a smile from Kuroko each time. He wondered what fate had beheld him in the forest.

“Will you join me for a game?” The shadows to the far corner of the room parted, revealing a stone table that had not been there before, coupled with a chess board and an ivory chess set, so much more elegant than Kuroko’s own rough, hand carved one that sat at the bottom of his still unpacked satchel.

“Yes,” a curt nod was offered as Kuroko moved to the board, settling comfortably in front of the white pieces. Across from him Akashi took control of the red and their game began. They played until the candles in the room melted almost completely, the blaze of the fireplace shedding just enough light to allow them to finish their game.

“Checkmate,” Akashi’s took Kuroko’s bishop with ease, cornering the white king and bringing an end to the match. A thoughtful expression settled on his features, as he beheld the board; the game had gone much longer than he had anticipated.

“You are quite a skilled player, Kuroko.” Ever since Imayoshi had met his end in the gardens, Akashi had had no worthy opponent to play against.

“Thank you, Akashi-san. I fear my skills have gotten rusty,” Kuroko’s voice held a hint of rueful acceptance, pale fingers closing around the white king and tipping him down. “I demand a rematch to salvage my honor,” he added deadpan, the only sign of humor lingering in a challenging glance.

“Very well, Tetsuya, very well. Show me what you can,” Akashi accepted the challenge, a grin, sharp and dangerous settling on his features. By the time dinner time came, all matches had been won by Akashi, yet Kuroko remained undaunted. If anything, the teal-haired boy had seemed more determined than ever.

\---

_“Sometimes I marvel how little the villagers truly understand. How much they have forgotten. Their stories have lost so much of their truth until nary a grain remains any longer. Lies and twisted imagination, dooming villager, after villager, because they simply do not remember. Their monster is a lie, a scapegoat hiding the true evil, yet another like all of us, one that sees more than the rest combined. However, there are patterns to this game, rules that must be adhered to and he cannot break them even if he wished. The Beast is a key but the lock must be opened by another. Remember! The castle is wrapped in lies and misbelief. Trust nothing but your instinct. Trust no one but yourself. Beware the moonless night for that is when they come.”_

The coughs started in the third day; a claw lodged itself in his chest, squeezing his lung, making his already laborious breath even harsher. Slight shivers wrecked his body, no matter how warm he was or how much the fire blazed. His limbs ached, his body felt like a massive sore and Kuroko had little idea what it was that was ailing him. Surely the aftereffects of his walk through the woods would have died out until then, instead of increasing in intensity. There was little that could be done; the boy resigned himself to wishing from a steaming bowl of soup from the kitchen and closed the door to the library behind him.

Kuroko wandered through the dead halls of the castle, the dust and the grime lodging in his throat and clogging his lungs. He coughed, a rattily sound that already jarred his shivering body – no matter how many layers he piled, it seemed to not be enough for him. The candles came alight here and then, banishing some of the shades to the far recesses of the hall, illuminating a way that lead to the far end of the east wing. The journal clutched in his hands seemed a better lead than most of what he had found till then, a cohesive collection of memories and observations by a Mage, Imayoshi Shoichi. Some of his writings had later been annotated by a cleric, one Mayuzumi, but in the very beginning his additions seemed to be far and in between.

_‘There is a Sepulcher on the grounds, a derelict old tomb that does not hide bones and dust, but rather a mystery I have yet to decipher. Beware it and remember; the rule is in the colors, in the flashes of light that chase the darkness away. Remember; that which thrives in the dark cannot touch you in the light, but the opposite does not always hold true.’_

A corridor veered left and the boy followed it, curiosity leading his footsteps. A stairway, smaller and derelict – perhaps one meant for servants once, when the castle was still thriving – winded downwards, breaking from the main body of the castle and ending with a small arched door, leading to the outside. The window to his left gave a glimpse of the white desolation beyond the castle, the fountain a mere speck in the distance. Behind the door, a cobbled path started, narrow and winding, half hidden in the layers of snow settled comfortably over it. A path that led further into the heart of the gardens, towards a stone Sepulcher, tall and looming, the shadows clinging to it more tightly than they did to any other part of the castle. Although the warning from the notes rang stark in his memory, Kuroko did not turn back.

_‘Remember; a warrior’s pride is not his sword, a cleric’s love is not his faith, a mage’s strength is not his magic. Remember, the monster is a lie. Remember: Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Devil, Emperor. Ask the Devil but do not expect a clear answer. He cannot give it! Ask the Moon and read between the lines. He will help you. Ask not the Hermit for he will not answer. Ask not the Emperor for he will give you a false truth. Beware of Temperance; his answers may aid or hinder.’_

The notes added by Mayuzumi to Imayoshi’s notes came back to him, fingers turning white against the leather cover of the journal still clutched in his grasp. The Sepulcher lay beyond; another mystery of the puzzle. Another question to be answered. Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Devil, Emperor. What was the meaning behind those words and what link did they have to the Sepulcher?

The wind picked up pace around him, bettering him mercilessly with ice and snow, his chilled body reminding him vividly that no matter how many layers he gathered one on top of the other, his clothing was still not suited for the outdoors. He stumbled, jerking to a halt and wrapped himself more tightly in his woolen cloak.

Before he could make his way forth once more, a new coughing fit washed over him, the attack leaving him breathless and weak. His knees wobbled, body tilting forth, dark spots dancing at the edge of his vision. His lungs seized, the air making its way inside insufficient to sustain him and he fell, the snow cushioning his landing. It was cold, icy cold and his clothes were no shelter against the weather, tremors already settling in, but Kuroko could not muster the power to rise. Darkness took over and he surrendered to it.

Later, the first thing Kuroko noticed when he woke was that he was finally warm and comfortable, his skin no longer stabbed by icy pinpricks. The second thing he noticed, eyes fluttering open and a confused expression settling on his features, were the numerous blankets he was wrapped in and the ache settled in his limbs. His whole body was stiff, a dull throb settled deep into his bones. His throat still felt clogged and his head ached, but he was at least alive and not a frozen statue to adorn the gardens.

“I see you have woken,” a sardonic voice rang from his side, Akashi settled in a chair with an indecipherable expression on his features.

“Akashi-san…”

“It is quite some time since I have had an Offering as amusing as you, Tetsuya. I would rather not lose that due to your own stupidity.” The voice was laced with disappointment, mismatched gaze bearing in Kuroko’s soul and the boy nodded, the slightest shadow of guilt flaring on his features. A sharp jolt of pain stabbed him, a reminder of the other’s second command and the way Kuroko had skirted close to failure. Akashi rose, satisfied, wings twitching behind him furiously and strode forth, lingering for the briefest of moments in the doorway.

“A moonless night approaches. Do not leave your room before sunrise, Tetsuya, no matter what you may hear.” The command seared into him, the weak nod of acquiescence unnecessary as Kuroko watched Akashi walk away.

\---

Darkness shrouded the room, the fire burned down to mere embers. No light shone through the gloom, not even the briefest ray of silver; a moonless night was heralded by the encompassing dark, the true terrors of the curse taking form as they marched from the depth of the woods towards the gardens and the stone corridors of the castle.

In one of the bedrooms, the shadows moved, restless, surrounding the bed, a shield against whatever it was that prowled the corridors at night. A figure detached itself from them, anthropomorphic despite its fuzzy features, a sword clutched tightly in its hand, a billowing cloak fluttering behind it despite the lack of wind. Its master slept behind, still blissfully ignorant, but the shadow had never forgotten, not for a single moment. It would not allow the curse to seize his master even though the other knew not the allegiance he had the power to command to his will.

Outside, in the pitch darkness covered by the moonless night, terror was unleashed upon the land. Inside, the nightmares concocted by other’s dreams, carefully guarded their precious charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat with me at https://naeriels.tumblr.com/ if you want.


	4. Judegement (XX) - Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door closed behind him with an ominous boom, though the darkness gave away slightly in face of the bright flickering light. A candelabra stood to the side of the room, cobwebs and dust covering it in a white layer of grime and dirt. However, the candles were still there, untouched and Kuroko lit them one by one, watching mesmerized as the more powerful light brought the inside of the mausoleum to light. There were no tombs waiting within, no skeletal specters or rotten coffins. There was nothing but dust and dirt, coupled with an emptiness so absolute that made the teal-haired boy wonder what it was that all feared so.

_“There is a rumor that sometimes comes from the far recesses of the world, from places where magic still lingers in unadulterated form, raw and powerful, bursting in ribbons of light and splashes of lightning. There is a rumor that comes from shamans, from warlocks, from weary travelers and iron-hearted adventurers. Magic is different there, they say, less tainted by those who dabble in the arts, tied to the elements. Bonds more powerful than anything we could imagine still linger there, bonds more resolute than True Names could ever hope to be._

_These people speak of soulbinds, of links so powerful that they transcend time and death, magic in innate form wrapped around the souls of those that shall never be parted. Soulbinds are rare, incredibly so, appearing once in a generation if even then. Unbreakable, unable to be sundered, allowing the pair to share strength and magic with one another, reaching heights never imagined before._

_Soulbinds are dangerous, these travelers will say. The death of half of the pair will not kill the other; no, it will corrupt their magic, turn it against the very world they live in, unstoppable and unrelenting, leveling anything in its path. A maddening frenzy will take over, a berserker rage that will only stop when the survivor has been destroyed by the raw power of the magic he once commanded. Soulbinds are dangerous; their power, a shining beacon to those who wish to corrupt the bonds, to pervert the magic and use it to their own twisted desires._

_I do not know if such tales hold any grain of truth; if mages in our parts were to be asked, they would scoff and call everything folly. Yet, somehow, I find myself intrigued by this tale and the tale the traveler refuses to utter. The tale of the ruin brought forth by soulbinds and the reason why those sharing such bonds are now forbidden from meeting one another.”_ (  Tales from the fringes of our world by Cleric Kimura )

\---

There was a rose blooming on Kuroko’s chest, black ink etched on skin despite the fact that no one had ever placed either needle or magic on his skin. It had been there since his birth, a stark contrast on the pale white skin that had always caused his mother no small amounts of worry.

Already the villagers’ attention had been aimed towards him, towards the ghost child they could vent their fear and anger and distrust on. Already they abhorred his very existence, slurs pouring from poisoned lips as they hurled insult upon insult at the teal-haired child. What would happen were they to know of the ink adorning Kuroko’s skin, the beautiful yet deadly so rose resting just above his heart?

His mother hid the rose, buried it under layers of clothing and a paste made of plants. As he grew and lost her to sickness and death, Kuroko continued doing the same, kept the rose a secret from the villagers, unveiling it only to the mages that passed through on their way to the castle.

He had hoped they hold answers for him; they did not.

It didn’t surprise him as much as it should when he had noticed the rose had branched out, the flower in full bloom and spindly black vines stretching towards his shoulders. When he had left the village, it had been a flower bud still, small and curled in itself like it had been in his youth. The morning after he had reached the castle it had bloomed; a full rose nestled comfortably above his heart.

Perhaps he should have expected his health to deteriorate. The flower was a curse after all, one that was meant to herald his death. He had known it for a while now; he had simply not expected the castle to be the trigger that would make the curse spread.

_( Dying has never truly frightened him; it had always seemed an inevitability, something he would not be able to postpone forever. Truthfully, he had never expected the curse to be his end. The villagers had taken the task to hand well before that._

_He had first tasted the possibility in his childhood, his assailant’s face frozen in a rictus of hatred as he rained hits and kicks upon the small body curled on the ground, splatters of blood blooming underneath him like a torn camellia. The knife had fallen afterwards once, twice, thrice, but though the shadows had embraced him, they had not ferried him to the underworld. He had survived, a first of many, thanks to a kindly healer and his cleric friend who had noticed the rose while tending to his wounds._

_“Mitobe says it’s a curse,” the cleric translated his friend’s silence. “It’s dormant right now, but it will wake one day. To what ends he does not know, but it will bloom like any flower does and when it will start withering, the curse will claim your life.”_

_The cleric, Koganei, frowned for a moment, his usually happy mien contorted in pondering silence. His fingers had traced the contour of the rose, only a small bud at that time, a bright light flickering under fingertips as his eyes went unseeing, his faith calling for answers._

_“It’s destiny. One that may bring ruin or one that may bring salvation. The gods are uncertain. I’m sorry, my powers are still not strong enough to say more.”_

_They had left several days later and he had not heard from them since; the forest must have claimed them as it had many others. )_

When he woke, there was still a claw lodged firmly in his chest, his breath rattling like a rickshaw’s broken wheel with every inhale and exhale. His body ached, a soreness spread evenly over its entirety, hindering his movements, making him slow and sluggish. He felt cold once more, the warmth he had found himself cocooned in during the night draining as soon as he left the bed.

Akashi remained elusive for the entire day; the master of the castle must have retreated to the west wing, keeping well out of sight though Kuroko had searched for him. He had not had the chance to thank the other for saving his life, for bringing him out of the grave of snow that would have claimed him and settling him in the warmth of his chambers.

He had also not had the chance to ponder more on the conundrum Akashi had presented, the vivid fear present in the mismatched gaze, flaring for the briefest of moments, even as his words had been sharp and damning. Why would it matter had he died? Why had he been saved? The villagers kept saying that the Beast in the Castle enjoyed in the suffering of his Offerings, but since coming here all signs had pointed to the contrary.

The castle is wrapped in lies, Akashi had said. What more was it? Mysteries upon mysteries heaped upon a place that none recalled where it had come from and what purpose it had served. Historical recollections did not remember a castle on these grounds. The villagers, wrapped in superstition and fear claimed that it had always been there, but never inhabited, not until the gloom had come.

The castle is wrapped in lies. The village is twisted by them. The curse plays all like mere puppets on strings.

\---

_“Remember! The curse is fivefold, a piece of magic so intricate and complex that no mage of our times can even think of replicating it. Five locks, five souls, five hearts; open one of each and unlock to the path to the next. But be wary; there is a pattern to them, a rule that must be followed. Break it and pay the price!”_

The library remained silent as he stood curled on the sofa, reading the last of Mage Imayoshi’s notes near the fireplace. Some of the dust had cleared as if by itself, order returning bit by bit to the large room. A sigh escaped his lips, hands rubbing at tired, teal-colored eyes, but Kuroko returned to his reading, eager to get to the end. There was not much more he could learn from the notes, he knew, but he wondered what had been Imayoshi’s fate and whether the mage had left any hint to it in his notes.

Five hearts, five souls, five locks. Five names added by Mayuzumi to Imayoshi’s notes: Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Devil, Emperor. And the questions that still hid in the Sepulcher he had but glimpsed the previous day.

As he turned the pages, red spattering started mingling with drops of ink and shaky handwriting, as if the author had forced himself to finish the journal. Towards the end, the words were neigh unintelligible, only Mayuzumi’s translation below them shedding light to the mage’s fate.

_“My mistakes have already been made. I had not expected… it matters little now. The curse retaliated and I am dying. Rose vines have claimed me bit by bit, twisting around my body like coiling ropes that will never let go. Even now as I write they bite into my skin and tear the flesh, rivulets of blood staining the carpet beneath me. I am not long for this world, but I will do what I must to leave the knowledge behind._

_**Succeed where I have not. Do what I could not.** And before I die, I am sorry, whoever you might be. I have failed you.”_

The journal ended there, with no more notes from Mayuzumi and merely a bloody handprint pressed to the last page. He coughed, pain flaring in his chest, the journal slipping as he pressed his hand over his mouth to contain the racking sound. There would be no going to the Sepulcher today, he knew all too well. His body was still too weak to sustain the journey through the blizzard. With Akashi still keeping away, he resolved to keep going through whatever notes might have gone unnoticed the first time.

\---

The Castle remained silent for the following days; Akashi refused to make his presence known and Kuroko flitted without purpose between the library and his room, rereading Imayoshi’s notes and trying to prepare himself for entering the Sepulcher. The rose had stopped spreading from the time being, his body gaining a little bit of strength, even though harsh coughs still rattled his lungs. It was time; he could delay no longer. The more he did, the less chances he held of actually finding an answer.

Dressed as warmly as possible, with a thick, woolen cloak laid over his shoulders, the boy made his way through the snow, the blizzard less harsh than it had been that day. The way seemed longer, cobbled path winding through the gardens, passing withered rose bushes and trees frozen to the very core. It was silent, as silent as it had been the first day he had entered the grounds. The howls of the forest should have been heard in the gardens, but where not, a void of nothingness eating away at anything that dared disturb the stillness. Even his footsteps made no sound, the crunch of the snow and the cry of the wind unheard as he came closer and closer to the Sepulcher.

_‘There is a Sepulcher on the grounds, a derelict old tomb that does not hide bones and dust, but rather a mystery I have yet to decipher.’_

Imayoshi had not been able to decipher the secrets held between the old stone walls. As he stood in front of the large iron door, grotesque gargoyles leering at him from the carvings on each side of the entrance, Kuroko found himself wondering whether he too would meet a similar fate, one bereft of answers and ending abruptly. Hands closed around the circular, metal handle, frail arms pushing with all their might to force the door open.

Darkness reigned inside, pitch perfect and absolute. The light that came from the gardens merely illuminated the entrance, silver rays failing to chase away the gloom within. The torch in his hands flared to light, the tinder making the flames blaze before he had the chance to step inside.

_‘Remember; that which thrives in the dark cannot touch you in the light, but the opposite does not always hold true.’_

The door closed behind him with an ominous boom, though the darkness gave away slightly in face of the bright flickering light. A candelabra stood to the side of the room, cobwebs and dust covering it in a white layer of grime and dirt. However, the candles were still there, untouched and Kuroko lit them one by one, watching mesmerized as the more powerful light brought the inside of the mausoleum to light. There were no tombs waiting within, no skeletal specters or rotten coffins. There was nothing but dust and dirt, coupled with an emptiness so absolute that made the teal-haired boy wonder what it was that all feared so.

_‘Beware it and remember; the rule is in the colors, in the flashes of light that chase the darkness away.’_

Another candelabra stood to the far-east side of the Sepulcher so Kuroko walked to it, setting it alight as he had done with the first. A third, in the western corner received the same treatment. It was only when the three sets of candles burned merrily in the old mausoleum, when their light cast shadows on the walls and illuminated patterns on the ground, that he saw them. On the farthest wall from the entrance, reaching from the ground all the way to the ceiling. Thick wood frames and splashed of color coalescing together to give forms, features. Beneath them dark, curled letters, a sharp contrast with the vivid colors: Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Devil, Emperor. And then another frame, a sixth one, milk white and empty, with but two words written beneath it: The Magician.

A flash of light, the candles burning brighter than before, illuminating all the five portraits at once, the shadowed features of before coming to life under the brilliance of the light.

Remembrance; memories washed over Kuroko fast and merciless, burning in his mind as the new set pushed aside the old to make room. Images of a former life, of former friends, of bonds stronger than anything he could have ever dared hope for. Memories of friendships held dearer than anything else, of a love burning through his soul, of desperation and betrayal, fear and anguish giving way in face of rage. Guilt, guilt seared in his soul so deeply, understanding of much that had happened. And death, death claiming him in its embrace, the image of complete desolation accompanying him in oblivion.

The first portrait, the Moon; sun-kissed locks and golden eyes, an insolent smile and the chime of a joyful voice ringing in his ears. Memories of robes of vivid blue, magic blooming under talented hands, copies of spells more perfect than the originals flitting around his fingertips. Above his head, a crescent, shedding pale light upon the figure beneath it.

“Kise-kun,” a whisper followed by a crippling pain in his chest, a cough rattling his lungs as Kuroko fell to his knees.

The second portrait, Temperance: verdant green hair hiding an aloof gaze, taped fingers resting above a golden goblet, an emerald robe flowing with abandon behind him. Memories of lucky items being trudged wherever they went, a faith so absolute that it surpassed that of any cleric, annoyance written on stern features when laughter echoed near him, a rickshaw rattling wherever he went.  

“Midorima-kun,” the memories slotted themselves in his mind, bricks forming a structure that had till then been incomplete.

The third portrait, The Hermit: steely blue gaze and shadowed features, a spear held tightly in a white knuckled grip, disdain painted on haughty features. Memories of laughter, of acceptance, a bright gaze and a helping hand offered when he had been struggling. A ball of light balanced precariously on fingers, the throw never missing its mark. Bright pink always entwined with the past, bittersweet recollections tearing at his Kuroko’s soul. A darkness stealing over the other’s heart, a darkness quick to work yet hard to be dispelled.

“Aomine-kun.” His skin burned underneath his clothing, the knowledge that the rose was spreading once more seared into his mind without need of proof.

The fourth portrait, The Devil: violet eyes gazing with anger, a runed sword piercing the ground at his feet as hands clasp around the handle with furious strength. Memories of days spent chatting idly, snacks exchanged under the warm summer sun, disagreements that were never settled, but had no need to be. A large hand ruffling spiky, blue hair, lazy words muttered in a gruff voice.

“Murasakibara-kun,” the second cough made him gasp for breath, spatters of red staining his hands as he forced himself in an upright position.

The final portrait, The Emperor: red hair and scarlet eyes, the air of confidence wrapped around his very being like an unbreachable armor. Memories of kind smiles, of late night discussions and chess matches, of magic dancing from one to another with abandon. A change, gold stealing over red gaze, the words of another echoing in his voice. Betrayal and regret and later reconciliation. Love and loss and pain, raw and crippling.

The words died in his throat, a True Name forming on his lips as he beheld the final portrait, all past memories slamming into him with the vengeance of an enraged dragon. He remembered everything now, remembered how it all had ended and understood so much more. All came back to that day, locked in a past that had occurred so long ago no one remembered it anymore.

“Well, well, well,” a chilling voice crooned from the shadows of the room, the light unable to cast its glow to the farthermost corners. “It seems the magician has arrived. Tch, and here I thought we had been rid of you. Master said otherwise, of course, but I had hoped.”

Rose wines burst from the shadowed corner, their thorns aimed like arrows painting Kuroko as their target. Teal eyes widened in surprise, the speed of the vines as they slashed the air towards him unable to be countered, not even with his newfound memories.

“Begone!” A soft voice echoed, a shadowy wall rising around Kuroko, familiar and long-forgotten, shielding him from the thorns mere moments before their target would have been reached. The candles flared in the room, a powerful, bright blaze that should not have been possible, growing in intensity until the only shadows that remained were the ones forming the armor protecting Kuroko from harm. A piercing wail announced the departure of the unseen enemy, the dark shield dispelling as soon as the danger had passed, allowing Kuroko to behold his savior.

“It has been a while, Master.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The paintings mentioned in this chapter were very much inspired by the amazing KNB tarot set that can be found here: http://linipik.tumblr.com/tagged/tarot
> 
> Also, you can find me on tumblr at: https://naeriels.tumblr.com/


	5. Strength (IX) - Courage

_“Magical bonds are no novelty in the world we live in. A secret unlocked since the dawn of time, such bonds have often been used by wielders to forge strong connections and increase power, to share strength with one another and communicate without words. In time, their use has been extended; nowadays magical bonds can serve as adoption bindings, as betrothal contracts and even as wedding vows, the strength of the bond often acting as testimony to the truthfulness of the union. These links are never to be used casually, in jest or in dare, for they can harm those attempting to forge the link and repay their folly in the cruelest of manners._

_Blood bonds are considered magical bonds as well, though their use is restricted and some would claim such magic to be inherently dark, a magic of subjugation that could allow control over one’s actions if used unscrupulously. However, blood bonds were never meant to be used for malicious purposes, but rather they were meant to form connections where the deepest level of trust was involved. There have been many instances of such bonds in the past, the magic and lifeblood shared among such ceremonies creating a nigh unbreakable link._

_In truth, the difference between magical bonds and blood bonds lies in their purpose. Where the former links people together for the innocent occurrences of everyday life, the latter ties them intrinsically together, a blend of souls and minds that betrays tumultuous times to come, events that could lead to either greatness or ruin._

_Most magic wielders would claim this to be all, putting emphasis on merely these two types of bonds. Yet, there is another type, an element of the arcane that has long been kept under lock and key out of fear of it being misused. Spirit bonds, perhaps the strongest magical bonds, second only to the legendary soulbinds that few truly believe in.”_ ( Magical bonds and how they are used by Mage Araki )

* * *

 

“It has been a while, Master.”

Everything remained arrested in a moment; blue gaze widened as the voice stepped into sight, warm smile and jovial eyes beholding the teal-haired boy. A while; such an innocuous word, one unable to convey all that lingers in the in-between. A while is a day, a week, a month, a year perhaps, a period of defined time passing between meetings when all parties left behind are whole and hale. A while is certainty, the knowledge that one day their paths will cross again, a hopeful farewell lingering in the passage of time counting the seconds until a reunion has the chance to occur.

A while is not death stealing in their midst, the touch of nothingness brushing over eyelids as all fades to darkness, oblivion cradling them in its arms. A while is not endlessness or as good as, centuries without count mingling together in an unrelenting flow where time bleeds into itself, stagnate to one when all others continued moving forth. A while is not a world of shadows and darkness, a world of illusions and invisibility that one must govern while nurturing the hope that one day things might change. No, a while is not the word Kuroko would use to describe the time elapsed since they had last set eyes upon one another.

Eternity might be more fitting.

“Ogiwara-kun,” the name was whispered, fearful syllables falling from unwilling lips, as if the mere uttering of the word would make the vision in front of his eyes disperse. But, when the last echo had faded in the cavernous mausoleum and silence had reclaimed its barely lost dominion, Ogiwara was still there, smiling and bright, an oak staff adorned by a scarlet garnet resting comfortably in a slack grasp, unchanged as he had been when Kuroko had last beheld him. Only his expression was different, joy where once was grief, a proud smile replacing the anguished despair of before.

A shuddered exhale passed his lips, disbelief replaced by pure, unbridled glee as Kuroko allowed himself to believe that the sight in front of his eyes was true. A tearful smile broke across normally placid features, laughter bubbling inside.

“I thought we had an agreement, Ogiwara-kun,” Kuroko said in mock displeasure, delight still vivid on his features as he crossed the distance towards his oldest friend. His feet wobbled, the pain of the curse still boiling in his veins, yet he forced himself to ignore it, if only for a moment.

“I am still your apprentice, Kuroko. It’s only proper to address you such,” the newcomer teased gently, his arms going around the other, half in support and half in long-ingrained desire to draw him close, to feel a heartbeat beneath his touch once more and not the cold pallor of death. How long it had been; until that very moment Ogiwara had not realized how long it had been and how dearly he had missed Kuroko. Now, it seemed a piecing part of his heart was finally slotting back in place.

“You are my friend, Ogiwara-kun. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry it wasn’t fair of me,” a sob broke the teal haired boy’s less than coherent mumbling, the happy tears of before turning to anguish as Kuroko looked back on past that had just returned to his recollection, on the fate he had damned his friend to.

“Kuroko, it was not your fault. I never blamed you, not for one moment,” Ogiwara’s words were fierce, brimming determination wrapped around each syllable, punctuating the truth beneath it. “What that man tried, no, what he did was abominable, a perversion of nature itself. Had you not acted, I do not wish to think of the consequences. And the fact that you managed when…” he pushed back the words lodged in his throat, casting aside the memories of that day for the moment. “I do not blame you. You should not blame yourself either. What was done was the only course of action left to us. Anything else would have been nothing short of complete annihilation.”

“Ogiwara-kun…”

“Come, it is no use to look upon those days. They have long passed. I cannot linger for long; the curse does not allow it. And if we wish to break it, you must move forth. Already the mage has given you some clues. He was the one that made it the farthest, him and the cleric, but neither held any hope any further. Not with the Others lurking in the dark.”

Kuroko nodded, understanding what his friend had wished to convey. The curse was tied intrinsically to their past, wrapped around happenings that had warped the very world they liked in. Newcomers had no chance to break it; he knew it now, though he had not known it before.

“You have realized what this place is, have you not?” Ogiwara inquired.

“Teiko… Teiko Academy,” Kuroko whispered, now seeing the castle in a different light, shadows and cobwebs replaced by handwoven tapestries and the brilliant flare of magic. Silence overtaken by raucous laughter, hallways echoing with the rush of steps and the booms of spells. The library, so still and derelict, overlapped with the most comprehensive collection of spell tomes in known history. And the Sepulcher, the place where they were all trapped was the final battlefield, the hill that had seen their death, the earth that had claimed their broken bodies, cradled them in its soil and erased them from remembrance ever more.

“Yes, it is Teiko, a Teiko where time has been altered by the curse. It has been slowed down, stagnant almost. Whoever passes the borders of the village is branded irrevocably, their memories twisted to fit with the story told in the village. Outside this bubble, the world has changed; monarchs have reigned and died, mountains have corroded in the sea and the strangers still passing the border are hunting a wisp of a legend. However, the moment they pass the borders of the village, they are made to believe what the curse wishes them to.”

Perhaps it should have surprised Kuroko; however, there had always been an otherworldly atmosphere clinging to the village, an ethereal quality separate from the forest and the castle. Then there were the travelers, the ones that clung to awareness a while longer than the rest. Those that claimed the village was not marked on any maps, that no King had sent them for no one knew of such a village. The knights that patrolled the land and stumbled across a settlement that should never have existed. The clerics whose faith drove them across the world, leading their steps to a cursed place long stricken out of recollection.

The villagers never remembered the almost mad ramblings of the strangers crossing the borders, never recalled the moment of uncertainty before a lie dug its claws in their minds, leading their footsteps towards the forest.

“The key to breaking the curse lies here, in this Sepulcher, where all comes full circle once more. Your memories might fade outside its walls, I cannot say for sure. But here, you are the other side of the coin, the contrast to their existence. They do not remember; nay they cannot remember. The curse makes it so. And here, you cannot forget. You must make them remember, but do not break the pattern.”

_‘Remember; the rule is in the colors, in the flashes of light that chase the darkness away. But be wary; there is a pattern to them, a rule that must be followed. Break it and pay the price! ’_

Imayoshi had been able to see much, but not enough. Not everything that had to be seen. The pattern was not only in the colors, but also in the symbols etched in paint on the wooden frames.

 “The paintings are portals, doorways to the prisons in which they are being held. They are caught in a time loop forever believing they are the symbols etched on their tarot cards. Apart from one; you already know where Akashi-san dwells and he is as oblivious as the others. You will have to break the sigils on their portraits; to remember is to be free. Only when the five locks are broken will the curse stand a chance to be lifted. But he too still lingers, caught in the in-between like us all. To free them is to free him.”

_‘Five locks, five souls, five hearts; open one of each and unlock to the path to the next.’_

So, Imayoshi had been correct once more. He had been close, closer than anyone could have ever hoped to come. Part of Kuroko wondered what it was that led the mage to a truth so close to the reality keeping them all chained.

“With each portrait you will unlock, the curse will spread. It is made to hinder you till the very end, an attempt to claim your life before you are able to return everything to what had been. The command Akashi-san placed upon you was ill done, but it can end up aiding you. It is a double-edged blade, Kuroko. As long as you are successful as you set upon dismantling the curse upon the castle, the command will aid you, keep the rose from spreading as much as it can. Its strength pales in comparison to that of the curse. But if you fail, it will hasten the effects of the curse etched on your skin. I cannot say more; the rest you will discover for yourself.”

Already, as he spoke, Ogiwara’s presence started faltering, shadows rolling at his feet, grasping with desperation at the staff shedding a pale red light in the mausoleum. His features obscured, a fuzzy darkness stealing over then and he smiled, sadly, regret vivid in warm, brown eyes.

“I wish I could aid you more. Remember, the light hides dangers the darkness cannot thwart. Trust in yourself and trust in them.

“Thank you, Ogiwara-kun,” a few tears lingered on Kuroko’s eyelashes as his features morphed, determination growing stronger with each passing moment. He had even more to lose than before; he would not fail, not again. Though, as Ogiwara almost disappeared from sight, a question lingered on his lips, the desire to ask overwhelmed by the fear for the answer to come. As if understanding his friend’s reticence, the other smiled, a reassuring tilt to his voice as he answered.

“Do not worry. He is well; he is guarding the others as he has promised and will reveal himself to you when the time is right. Keep hope, Kuroko, you are not alone. Not anymore.”

The powerful blaze of the candles died down, the unnatural light returning to its pale softness, flickering shadows dancing on the cold, stone floor. The door strung open, remaining slightly ajar as if beckoning the one inside the leave the desolate premises of the now silent mausoleum. His body shook; the strength that had sustained him after the curse’s attack had been all but spent, his discussion with Ogiwara as draining as it had been enlightening. Kuroko made his way outside, the expanse of white overlaid upon the decaying gardens mocking him with their vastness, the trip back to the castle a daunting ordeal that he was unsure whether he could undertake.

However, he held no choice; lingering in the cold was not an option available, not when his body was already wrecked with shivers, the biting wind pressing mercilessly against him, taking advantage of the frailty already claiming more and more of him. His skin felt tight, itching as if not his own, abused muscled pleading for clemency as he placed one step in front of the other, movement fueled only by stubborn determination and the knowledge now sitting in his soul, the memories wrapped around his very heart, squeezing tightly. A whirlwind of emotions battled for supremacy inside him, delight and hope and longing, though the prevalent feeling was guilt, remorse echoing a drum of thoughts wrapped in anguish and contrition.

He stumbled, feet losing their purchase on the slippery ground, knees buckling beneath him in fatigue, the strength to remain upright lost during the trek through the gardens. His fall was assured, yet no pain came, no brutal contact with the icy ground, rocks tearing at cloth and flesh, roots pressing in the soft tissue. Instead, he found his grasp meeting not ice, but rather a softness akin to fur, shadows slowly coalescing under his touch, breaking his contact with the ground and lifting him gently. The amorphous mass consolidated in a shape, canine in form though larger than any dog or wolf that had ever walked the land.

“Nigou,” Kuroko breathed in surprise as phantom paws made their way forth, the shadow-dog’s howl erupting in the stillness of the gardens, chasing away the permeating silence for the briefest of moments. Hands curled in Nigou’s fur, pale fingers contrasting powerfully with the dark shape of the ghost hound, weary body settling comfortably on the dog’s back. With a sigh of relief, Kuroko closed his eyes, assured in the knowledge that he was safe, if only for the time being.

* * *

 

The following two days were spent in a haze of fever and pain, his body rebelling against the ravaging power of the curse, working to keep him tethered to the here and now. Knives ran through his veins, agony tearing through muscles and sinew, never once losing feeling or consciousness despite the desire to surrender in the hands of oblivion. Pain so excruciating it gave way to delirium, the feeling of being torn apart and haphazardly put back together, again and again, just to prepare for the circle to start anew.

Were he aware enough to understand, perhaps Kuroko would have been comforted in the knowledge that this onslaught was bound to be more powerful than any others to come, a vengeful retribution and a mechanism of protection, the curse seeking to destroy the one who held the power to dismantle it before he could go any further. Such power was not self-sustaining and were it to try again, the curse would run the risk of collapsing upon itself.

However, Kuroko hardly held the strength to ponder on such thoughts; his entire focus was on survival, the mantra beating like a staccato in his mind – _live, live, live_. He had come too far, learned too much to give up now. He would not abandon them, not again, even if the first time the choice had not belonged to him.

Coughs still ravaged his lungs, splatters of blood staining the pristine white of his pillow like a tainted halo, a mocking symbol of his all too human frailty. Out of the sudden, a hand moved gently through his hair before settling an icy cold cloth above his brow. Eyes glazed by fever opened, the pale light in the room still jarring and hurtful.

Akashi stood beside his bed, gaze tainted by unfamiliar desperation, one Kuroko was not quite able to comprehend. This Akashi, bound by the curse and locked in a castle, did not know him, did not hold the memories of their past. To him Kuroko was merely yet another Offering, a sacrifice demanded by the curse making puppets of them all. And yet…

“Such a foolish Offering, trying so hard to unravel the curse,” the voice was soft, almost awed, none of the derision of before lingering in the syllables uttered in the dark. Unguarded, that was how Akashi appeared, a singular moment of weakness allowed by the belief that Kuroko was too deep in the throes of fever to hear and comprehend his words. “Fight this, Tetsuya. Don’t let it win over you.”

Kuroko would have nodded had he had the strength. He would have reassured Akashi that he would not give in, would not surrender no matter what, not again despite being weaker than he had been back then. However, all his power was focused against the curse, so he did nothing, merely closed his eyes again, finally allowing darkness to sweep over him and release him from the agony of the curse, if only for a while.

He did not see Akashi settle in a chair next to his bed, nor did he feel clawed fingers wrapping around his wrist, the careful, yet strong grip seemingly trying to ground him to the world on whose threshold he lingered.

* * *

 

Come morning, no sign of Akashi’s presence remained in the room. Kuroko hurt, every patch of his body seemed to throb with dull pain, rooted deeply in his very being. The curse had spread, the spindly branches of the rose spiraling past his shoulders, wrapping around his arms in a deadly embrace. His breath still rattled and his bones still ached, movement laborious and sluggish.

And yet, despite it all, the fever had abated and he still lived.

At the foot of his bed, Nigou gave a happy bark, phantom blue eyes alight among the shadows that formed him.

The pieces were finally falling into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr at: https://naeriels.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shadow hound made his way through the castle without fear, phantom paws leaving nary an echo to announce his passage. Pressed to the ground, the dog’s snout sought the lingering smell of one he was familiar with, a deep whine echoing low in his throat as he moved further and further from his master, climbing narrow stairs and passing through darkened hallways where his presence almost blended in with the encompassing darkness.

**_In the far distant past_ **

1.

The cottage was small, a conglomeration of wood and clay, rotten in parts and shambling, a step away from collapsing. A straw roof, caved in and battered, barely stood upright to shield it and the door – an old, rickety thing – appeared to provide the only element of protection to the overall, derelict construction. The man on the porch created a sharp contrast with the shelter behind it. A youthful face, where the house was old, a fair and well-kept appearance, the glaring disparity between himself and the place he called home. Soft, black curls framed an angular face, a pair of dark green eyes staring impassively ahead as the man patiently awaited change to come on the battered, forest road. A cloak of silver grey framed his shoulders, a simple raven clasp keeping the material from being swept away by the mild wind.

The change came with a small swarm of shadows ruffling the russet carpet of leaves lining the forest floor, a dark cloud that would have, perhaps, been ominous had it not blinked in and out of existence as it forced itself forward. The man chuckled gently, arms crossing over his chest as he beheld the approaching cloud, green eyes narrowing in concentration, taking note of all that was wrong with the magical manifestation.

“You are getting better, Tetsuya, well done,” a hand was raised in the air, followed by a quick slashing motion. The shadows dissipated, leaving in their stead a young boy, teal haired and blue eyed, breath coming in a panting huff due to the exertion of keeping his magic alive as he made his way through the forest. “Your spells are becoming more consistent. It will aid you at Teiko.”

“Thank you, Master,” a small smile of gratitude accompanied the words as the boy rearranged the satchel slung over his shoulder.

“I am proud of how far you have come, Tetsuya. Had things been different, our apprenticeship would have continued normally. However, as you know, matters require my presence elsewhere. Teiko will help you as I would have and when we meet again you will be ready to assume your rightful place. I’ve sent word ahead, they know to expect you.”

“Thank you, Master,” the boy bowed, a brief flare of apprehension flickering on his features. Teeth dug into his lower lip, the involuntary sign of doubt making him appear even younger than he was. “Will it not be odd? There has never been…?” The words hung in the air, blue eyes turning wide with fear and uncertainty, as his master’s own gaze softened.

“I will not lie, it will be,” the man said, crouching down to the boy’s level and taking his hands in a careful grip, “None of our ranks have ever been trained at Teiko before. But, I sense dark times ahead of us. So I must ask you to be strong and forgive your mentor for not being able to offer you better. I regret it, I sorely do. But you will be needed, Tetsuya.”

“I understand,” a steely determination pushed behind the emotions of before, a placid façade overshadowing everything else. “I will not disappoint you.”

“I know you will not. I am sending Ogiwara with you; he shows promise for our arts and in time he could become an apprentice to you, when you have learned all there is to learn. But, until then, his command over elemental magic will grant him a place at Teiko and he will be a familiar face among the strangeness that is sure to be the Academy.”

2.

“Mooootheeeer,” a whine echoed in the large mansion, the plaintive cry of one that had had to suffer too much fussing and had finally reached the end of his rope. The golden-haired boy flopped down on the bed, head upside down as he stared at his mother fretting around the room and double checking all that he would have to bring with himself to the Academy. The woman, a petite, blonde haired beauty, gave her only child a look of fond annoyance, before returning back to her rummaging and adding another bundle of clothes to the already towering mountain waiting to be packed.

“Do you have your tutors’ letters? Your grimoire? Your winter boots?” Pink lips pursed in disapproval as she gave another glance to her child’s half-made satchel, the boots in question tossed haphazardly over the grimoire and a pair of night clothes sure to be unusable by the time he reached the academy.

“I have them all, mother,” the boy exclaimed in wretched despair, hands moving to cover his eyes in an attempt to cast aside everything related to packing from his mind. He would simply make sure to stuff everything inside as soon as his mother left the room.

“Ryouta, stop your whining this instant. You are eleven, you are no longer a child,” the woman huffed, her tone less biting than her words promised. “Besides, how do you think Kasamatsu-kun will react if he sees the state your satchel is in when he comes to pick you up? Especially after spending all that time badgering you to keep things in order while he was at home?”

A loud thud echoed in the room, a certain sign that her child had fallen out of bed. Predictably enough, as she turned, Ryouta gazed at her with a dumbfounded expression, pieces just then falling into place as the boy realized exactly  who was bound to come and escort him to Teiko Academy.

“No, no, no, I don’t want senpai to kick me again,” the child wailed, scrambling from his place on the ground and rushing to his satchel to put everything in perfect order. Behind him, with a hand daintily raised to her mouth, his mother attempted to hide her growing amusement. Perhaps it was petty of her, but threatening her child with Kasamatsu Yukio’s disapproval worked every time.

3.

The mansion was quiet, unnaturally so perhaps. Nothing moved in the stillness, not even the stray speck of dust lingering in the air moments after footsteps have stopped echoing. Unbearably quiet others would have called the place, and yet, as he looked around him, the green haired boy found nothing wrong with the atmosphere of the house. His parents were gone for the day, a soiree demanding their presence even as their son was spending the last night for the foreseeable future under their roof. The maids had all gone to bed, the falling darkness calling them to slumber as he lied wide awake, thoughts mulling over all he knew about Teiko. In a corner of the room, his satchel stood prepared, everything packed in perfect order for the approaching journey. On his night table, a small, glass ballerina was captured in a plie pose, the local fortuneteller’s lucky item of the day for his sign.

A sudden sound disturbed the silence, the echo of rock meeting glass echoing in the stillness of the room. Another rock followed and another, until the boy deigned to heave himself down from bed and approach the window. Blue-gray eyes shined at him with glee from below, a mischievous grin flickering on carefree features as the boy sent another rock spiraling towards the window.

“Takao,” emerald eyes narrowed in annoyance, taped hands moving to push the windows wide open. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you’d be awake, Shin-chan! You’re never asleep the night before something big is scheduled to happen. Besides, when else am I supposed to come? Your father hates me, he told me not to return unless it was for lessons,” Takao whined as he plopped on the grass carelessly.

“Father does not hate you. He merely mistrusts you around objects of high value and old age, after you broke his 1000 years old vase. Besides, I recall that mother told you quite firmly to ignore everything my father had to say.”

“That was an accident; how was I to know that my attempts to recreate our tutor’s spell would end up with my spells locking onto the vase instead of the pillow we had to work with?”

The long-suffering expression crossing the green haired boy’s features spoke volumes about his ability of being able to describe in perfect detail – with long essays and diagrams if needed – the odds of Takao’s spell honing on just about anything but the pillow they were working on. Instead, he kept his thoughts silent and addressed the other matter at hand.

“You still have not answered. It is not as if we are going to part ways; we are both headed to Teiko tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but, it’s our last day here,” the boy tried to explain in a flippant manner, however the carefree attitude slid off his face like water, the barely held together mask of indifference replaced with the true worry beneath. “It’s gonna be different from tomorrow, isn’t it? There is no way we are going to end up in the same groups; your magic is much stronger than mine and anyway, I want to train to become a knight enchanter, not an archmage like you. We’ll barely see each other and you’ll find new friends and you’ll forget about me,” the boy started babbling.

Suddenly, his body started floating, a yelp passing his lips as he rose higher and higher from the ground until he was face to face with his friend. Taped fingers reached through the window, curling around the other’s wrist, the grip almost bruising in its tightness.

“Takao, don’t be a fool! Do you truly believe me to be so shallow as to discard your friendship simply because I have met new people? Had it been so, we would have long stopped being friends, as Mother has forced me to become acquainted with a plethora of other children, not to mention tutor’s incessant griping that I would be better suited training with his oaf of a son.”

“Shin-chan…”

“Go home and stop being an idiot. And for all that’s holy, get some sleep, I refuse to weather the road to Teiko with your incessant yawning as companion.”

“Such a tsundere,” the grey eyed boy mumbled, yet he nodded, face alit with joy as he was lowered to the ground and made his way back home in a maddening dash. Behind, in the cold, silent mansion, a green haired boy allowed the ghost of a smile to flash on his features.

4.

“Atsushi, surely you do not mean to fill your bag with nothing but sweets,” his father’s dismayed voice came from the sitting room and the purple haired boy sighed in exasperation, already fed up with the attention given to the whole Teiko business. So bothersome… “What do you plan on wearing? Tunics made out of chocolate wrappings?”

“Do not worry, Murasakibara-san. I will make sure Atsushi packs properly,” another voice came from the hallway, amused and fond as it always was whenever such matters would occur. Footsteps echoed closer and closer, his father’s resigned huff lingering for a few moments in the silence in-between, before his attention was diverted elsewhere, most probably to the apple pies Cook had backing in the kitchen.

“Atsushi…” The same voice from before rang in his room and the boy’s violet gaze locked with another, grey eyes full of mirth laughing silently as they beheld him.

“Arara, not you too, Muro-chin,” the boy whined.

“I do not know what you mean. I merely wished to tell you that mother has sent yet another of her shortbread packages and it has arrived today.”

Ears perked at the news, the purple-haired boy’s lanky body sitting upright all of a sudden, eyes honing on his friend. Had his attention not been captured wholeheartedly by the idea of homemade shortbread, he might, perhaps, had resented his friend’s underhanded tactics.

“Shortbread?”

“Hmmm, yes. Also, a batch of raisin cookies for when we go to Teiko. But, I fear I may have to leave them behind. You see, my satchel is already full and your father won’t give me an extra one unless I convince you to pack properly,” the raven-haired boy sighed as in dismay, hands rising in a defeated gesture. “They even were the type with chocolate sprinkled above.”

“I’m going to pack,” the purple haired boy said mulishly, annoyance written on his face as he hoisted himself out of bed and trudged for the pack. “Muro-chin would better stop dawdling and bring the shortbread he promised.”

Behind, his friend allowed a well-pleased smile to flicker on his features.

5.

“Dai-chan!!!” The pink haired girl snapped, hands on her hips as she glared at her childhood friend sprawled on the roof of the solarium, a picture of utter carelessness. Blue eyes opened lazily, a hand raised to shade them, followed by a brief flare of annoyance at being disturbed.

“What do you want, Satsuki?”

“Aunt has been looking for you for hours, Dai-chan! You haven’t packed anything for Teiko and we’re bound to leave in less than three hours. The chariot is already ready.”

“Leave me alone, Satsuki,” the boy drawled, turning his back on the enraged girl at his side. “I’ll pack when I feel like it. Tell your aunt to let me be, ‘s not like she’s my mother to keep nagging me so.”

Pink eyes narrowed and the girl’s lips pursed in annoyance, before a fake – blatantly so – innocent expression morphed on her features. Rocking on the balls of her feet, the girl’s hands moved in an intricate pattern, forcing the humidity in the air to coalesce in the form of a water bubble and letting it drop on her friend.

“Oi, Satsuki!” The boy sputtered, jumping to his feet as the water soaked him through. “What’s the bright idea?”

“Dai-chan, do you know where your Horikita Mai painting is?” A shiver of dread slid down his spine as the blue haired boy regarded the other wearily, taking in her wide eyes countenance and her plastic smile. He was in deep trouble.

“Satsuki… come on now. You wouldn’t…”

Except she definitely would.

“I gave it to aunt and she placed it in the fireplace. I’m guessing you have about half an hour or so before her shield spell wears off. She might consent to saving it, if you go pack right now, but I’m not even sure. She was awfully mad,” the girl drawled, a bright grin replacing the fake one from before as she watched the other jump from the solarium roof and use a spell to cushion his fall, before dashing inside the mansion.

6.

“Aniki is going to Teiko,” the red-haired boy pointed out with a dejected voice, a crumbled letter staining his fingers with ink as he grasped it tightly. The news had come as a disheartening blow to the boy who had been looking forward to finally having the chance to study the arcane alongside his brother. Alex had promised to take them both under her wing, but with his brother going to Teiko, that promise had become obsolete.

“I know, Taiga, and had circumstances been different, I would have allowed you to join him. But your mother’s health is precarious and I would not want to deprive her of her son. In time, you will be able to join Teiko as well.”

Neither put into words the truth they were both avoiding. The boy’s mother was a fighter, always had been, but even the strongest fighter could be felled by a strong foe. The illness taking root in her mother’s lungs, stealing her breath and making her weaker with each passing day was such a foe. The doctors had given her three years, at most, if the gods smiled upon her. The boy had long stopped believing in gods, yet still prayed with his entire fiber that his mother would be granted at least those years, if not more. His brother could wait for him a while longer.

“Teiko can wait. Aniki already understands my reasoning for not joining him there. It’s just, I don’t understand HIS reasoning for not joining me here to learn from Alex,” the boy replied with a shrug, the plaintive note of his words hidden under fake bravado.

“You really do not?” His father chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair and grinning. Both knew all too well the reason for such a decision was a tall, purple haired boy with a craving for snacks. “You never did get along with Atusushi, didn’t you?”

“Tch, no,” the boy huffed, annoyance plain on his features as he carelessly tossed the letter aside and strode back to his room. He would just have to study hard with Alex and show his brother everything he had learned when they would meet again.

7.

The massive, mahogany table stretched between them, a physical barrier mirroring the wall that had separated them the majority of his life. Silence reigned absolute, only the soft clinks of silverware touching the china plates disrupting the crushing stillness embracing the room with abandon. Scarlet eyes focused more on the meal in front of him than the overbearing presence of the man at the end of the table. There was no conversation to be had between them, no small talk as most families indulge in. There was just the silence, the oppressive companionship of his father and his own thoughts churning without stop.

It was only as they waited for dessert that his father’s gaze finally met his, stern faced features betraying nothing as the man started speaking.

“Seijuro, your tutors tell me you have surpassed them in skill, in all that you have been studying. I expect you to continue doing the same at Teiko. A man from the Akashi family must excel in all fields.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Nebuya will be accompanying you to Teiko. It would be unseemly for a member of our family to travel without a retinue.”

“I understand.”

Silence descended upon the room once more; no more attention was shared between the two of them, their focus diverting to the dessert that was just being served. Only the suit of armor lying in the corner remained watching, a silent, impassive witness of the time that had bled together in the dining room, the words left unsaid and the festering wounds dealt and opened again and again with impunity. Once, laughter had rung in that room; now only the silence and the armor’s memories remained.

* * *

 

**_In the uncertain present_ **

The shadow hound made his way through the castle without fear, phantom paws leaving nary an echo to announce his passage. Pressed to the ground, the dog’s snout sought the lingering smell of one he was familiar with, a deep whine echoing low in his throat as he moved further and further from his master, climbing narrow stairs and passing through darkened hallways where his presence almost blended in with the encompassing darkness. The west wing unfolded at his feet, a stark contrast to the place from where he had come, blazing candles lingering on all walls, no sign of dust or cobwebs marring the surface of the rooms. The echo of music drifted to the hound, a mournful violin ringing louder and louder as he made his way forth.

Nigou barked, excitement coursing through his very being as his body picked up pace, paws scrambling for purchase on the marble floor when he bounded towards the room brimming with music. Scarlet met his gaze, a flash of vivid color in an otherwise bland room. Scarlet hair and mismatched gaze, elegant fingers tipped with claws gingerly cradling the body of the violin, notes lingering in the air moments after the hound had made his way inside. Another happy bark, an attempt to chase the solemn atmosphere away and Akashi turned around in surprise, attention captured by the shadow hound wiggling his tail with glee in front of him.

Eyes widened in disbelief, red stealing over the gold of one eye for a moment, the colors of sunset warping his gaze as his lips half-formed a long-forgotten name. Memories tugged at the back of his mind, an uncanny sense of deja-vu washing over the master of the castle as the dog trotted towards him in glee. However, as soon as remembrance tugged at the cords of his memories, threatening to pull them forth, the curse fought back with a vengeance, slamming shut a door that had been merely cast ajar, tightening its poisonous vines around Akashi. Gold gleamed once more in his eye, the hues of red from before melting without a trace.

“So it was you that lingered in the shadows while Tetsuya has been ill. I had been wondering why there seemed to be shapes lingering in the gloom,” an apprising look stole over his features, careful movements putting the violin aside, before fingers moved to linger briefly in the shadow fur of the hound. “Most interesting.”

Nigou barked once more, joy at being acknowledged replacing the moment of confusion, of perplexity as to why it was that Akashi did not pet him longer, why it was that he smelled all wrong and yet right at the same time.

“Come, let us find your master. I am sure he must be looking for you.”

The hound barked in joy, tail wiggling as he followed Akashi away from the west wing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hurt, more than he could explain, to see Akashi coming down the stairs, Nigou a dark presence pressed firmly at his side, as it used to be. It brought an ache that he had not known he held until the Sepulcher returned his memories, a pain so deeply rooted in his heart and the lingering memories of a bond, stronger than anything else, uniting two souls that now stood parted.

****

_“It is commonly believed that all people have the untapped potential of using magic; a spark of the arcane lies at the core of every being, intrinsically tied to their existence. However, not all have the ability to draw it forth, to tap into it and extract the raw power needed to afterwards be channeled into spells. Those that do become magic wielders, undergoing schooling at special academies and preparing to obtain a specialization that will shape their full potential._

_Magic academies are strewn all across our world. From the newly built Seirin School that boasts merely a handful of students, to the powerhouse Rakuzan, the most prestigious academy known to wielders worldwide, these institutions make sure that all those with an inclination towards the arcane have the chance to nurture it in a highly-structured environment._

_However, things were not always so. In the distant past, a time almost beyond recollection, magic wielders underwent apprenticeships for years, learning under the tutelage of those already proficient in the specialization of their choice. A select few had the chance to study in makeshift schools, cobbled together by groups of wielders bandying together to spread their knowledge further. Even fewer had the chance to study at the only academy in the land, a place that was as illustrious as it is now legendary._

_Although no written proof remains of its existence, oral recollection speaks of a place of immeasurable power, the greatest school of the arcane in the land and the owner of the largest magical library known to history. None can test whether it was real or not; the legends do not tell of its location nor do they give any tangible proof to its state of being._

_Apart from the legends and tales surrounding the place, only one other element has remained: its name, Teiko Academy.”_ ( On Magical institutions and their history by Mage Kagetora )

* * *

 

**_In the long forgotten past – Year 1_ **

1.

It was perhaps pure coincidence they had all met on the pathway to Teiko, had all reached the top of the hill and beheld the sprawling view at their feet. The Academy gleamed, onyx dark spires towering majestically towards the sky, solariums winding across the entire gardens, stained glass glittering in the setting sun. It was perhaps coincidence, yet it had never felt so years down the road when they had fully understood how unlikely it had been for all of them to arrive at the same time.

A cacophony of noise interrupted the sight, oohs and aahs exclaimed by children just stepping on the bridge to adulthood disturbing the silence that had reigned till them. A rainbow of colors standing stark against the contrasting dark forest, subdued shades mingling around them as their friends chattered and waved passionately towards the Academy. They did not speak; they did not need to, not yet. Each of them had arrived with their own retinue.

In years to come, they would look back on that day and call it fate, happenstance, the gods taking the piss at them. However, in that very moment, with attention captured entirely by the castle at their feet, they paid no heed to each other and stepped forth, descending towards the place that promised to be their home for the unforeseeable future.

2.

Perhaps room assignations would not have caused such a fuss, had a screeching whirlwind not taken one look at the rooster, before latching tightly onto another, bemoaning his fate to all and sundry.

“Senpaaaai,” the blonde child whined, holding upon the arm of another boy, older than him by a few years. Tears glittered on long eyelashes, gold eyes wide with dismay as he pointed to the list on the wall opposite from him. “Why can’t I room with you?”

“Because you’re a First Year, brat!” The older boy snapped in annoyance, hands moving to forcefully remove the child still clinging to his arm. Two years of peace of silence, that was how much Kasamatsu Yukio had enjoyed, before the pest that was Kise barreled back into his life.

A snicker broke out at the exchange, silver-blue eyes dancing with glee as they turned upon his companion. Midorima’s own gaze narrowed, the bright grin leveled in his direction promising nothing good as Takao kept following the exchange between the two boys further ahead.

“Takao…” a warning, “Don’t you dare!”

“But Shin-chaaaaan,” the black-haired menace at his side whined in perfect copy of the blonde child from before. “They separated us. However, will I be able to sleep at night?” A hand got pressed to the boy’s chest in fake hurt, the amusement much too great to pay any heed to his friend’s growing irritation. “The gods themselves weep at the unfairness of it all!”

“Takao, shut up!”

“And I promised your mother I would make sure you eat and take care of yourself. Whatever will I say to her now? ‘Oh, Midorima-san, I do not know whether Shin-chan eats well or not. For all I know he may very well be eating his lucky items.’”

“We all eat in the main hall, you imbecile!” Midorima snapped with fury, turning around and stalking ahead towards his own assigned room, leaving his childhood friend behind doubled in laughter. His relief at being away from the teasing of before bled out suddenly realizing that he was to room with the howling golden haired, child and another boy, one Aomine Daiki. So that was why Cancer was ranked last that day…

3.

The bed was small, but comfortable, a soft mattress and a woolen blanket seeming the height of luxury to one who had spent the past two years sleeping in straw. Ogiwara sighed in blissful relief, tilting backward and falling on the bed, allowing the softness to engulf him with abandon. A bright grin spread over his features, dark brown gaze turning to his friend that watched him from the shadows with a bemused expression.

“Kuroko! Kuroko, I can die happy now. This bed is better than anything I have ever imagined. After the straw and the rocks and the ground…” his arms stretched in glee, fingers fisting in the fluffy pillow, pulling it into his arms and pressing it close. Kuroko said nothing, merely smiled indulgently at the antics of his best friend.

The door flung open all of a sudden, a still snickering boy entering the premise and stopping short at the sight of the other two in the room. Ogiwara opened his eyes, head raising in a lazy gesture as he beheld their third roommate, whereas Kuroko merely stepped out of the shadows, a polite smile etched on his features. A sort of apprehension filled the two, the fright of the unknown and for a moment all stood still waiting to see how everything would unfold.

“Oh, hey! You must be my roommates.”

“That’s right,” Ogiwara said, rising on his elbows to meet the newcomer’s gaze more squarely. “You must be Takao-kun, right?”

“That’s right. Takao Kazunari,” the easy-going grin of the grey eyed boy and his carefree mannerism seemed to dispel some of the tenseness in the atmosphere. Ogiwara grinned, hoisting himself upright, before introducing himself.

“I’m Ogiwara Shigehiro.”

“And I am Kuroko Tetsuya,” the blue haired boy announced from the corner of the room. “Nice to meet you, Takao-kun.”

“So, Tet-chan and Shige-chan, then,” Takao beamed in delight, moving to claim the still unoccupied bed in the room. “Nice to meet you two.”

4.

The magical aptitudes tests were gruesome, three days of exhausting and body numbing assessments meant to bring each of those undertaking them to the very limit and push them well beyond it. Three days of seeing where they fit, whether the specializations they had honed skills for all those past years were appropriate for them or whether they would face disappointment and be assigned elsewhere.

Himuro found it hard not to resent Atsushi for the nonchalance with which he seemed to have passed his own tests, for the inborn potential the boy commanded with ease and without need for extra training. Whereas Himuro spent his days chanting under his breath, channeling spell after spell after spell in each of his free moments, Atsushi spent his time lazing around, eating sweets and complaining. However, it was just as hard to allow that resentment to fester, when the purple haired boy plastered himself next to Himuro whenever the raven-haired boy studied, munching on a stick of candied sugar and offering his batch of sweets to the other.

In the few rare moments they were not together, when Atsushi was off to undertake another test and Himuro was closeted in the library, the silence seemed almost oppressive, the lack of companionship eerie after spending years in each other’s pockets.

“Himuro-kun, what specialization to you wish to be classified in?” Their roommate, Ryo, had been a startling surprise. Neither of them had been quite sure how to deal with the boy’s apologetic nature – Atsushi had called him bothersome, but then again mostly everyone appeared such to his friend – but as far as roommates went, Ryo was tidy and silent, knowing perfectly well when to make his presence known and when not to.

“A knight enchanter perhaps. Or an elemental mage,” Himuro mused, teeth nibbling on the quill he was using as he sought the answer to a question on the history of the arcane. “How about you, Sakurai?”

“Well, mother kept nagging me back home about being an elemental mage, but I think I’d like to be an alchemist. I just hope I don’t end up a healer. I do not have an ounce of inclination for the healing arts.”

Himuro snorted in laughter; an understatement if there ever was one. He had seen Sakurai try to heal one of his paper cuts and ending up with an extra finger for his trouble. The resident healer had been most displeased to see him.

5.

A silver haired man stood on the dais, sharp eyes narrowed in a faux benign appearance, a cold smile etched on his face as he regarded the first years gathered at attention at his feet. Robes of dark blue fluttered without wind around him, the latent power of his magic manifesting in the circles of air fluttering continuously beneath his feet. The silence that awaited his speech kept everyone arrested, the fidgeting nervousness of before quieted as soon as he had made his presence known.

“It is time to announce the test results. Teiko Academy prides itself with only accepting the best magical wielders in the land. Those of you that have not placed in any specialization will be asked to gather your belongings and leave the premises as soon as possible. For the rest, the first step in your magical education has been undertaken. It is just one of many that will guide you in life. Keep a steady course and do not falter. Sanada, if you please!”

Another man stepped forth on the dais, a roll of parchment floating before his eyes. Scanning the gathered crowd briefly, for just one moment gave an imperceptible nod of approval, before starting to read the list.

“First specialization – Archmages: Akashi Seijuurou, Haizaki Shougo, Aomine Daiki, Kise Ryouta, Midorima Shintarou, Murasakibara Atsushi.”

Those whose names were called formed a neat row under the archmage emblem, waiting patiently for the ceremony to come to an end in order to progress to the next stage.

“Second specialization – Knight enchanter: Nebuya Eikichi, Takao Kazunari, Kawahara Kouichi, Tsugawa Tomoki, Himuro Tatsuya. Third specialization – Elementalism: Hayakawa Mitsuhiro, Narumi Daisuke, Ishida Hideki, Hayama Kotaro, Ogiwara Shigehir. Fourth specialization – Alchemy: Momoi Satsuki, Sakurai Ryou, Mochida Reiji, Liu Wei, Nakamura Shinya. Fifth specialization – Healing…”

The words droned on as Takao shifted on the spot, his placement in the back of the Knight Enchanters group allowing him to scoot closer and closer to the end of his row, the place nearest to where Ogiwara waited patiently in the Elemental wing.

“Ogiwara,” the raven-haired boy hissed under his breath, worry vivid in grey-blue eyes. “What about Kuroko?”

“He was already placed when we arrived,” Ogiwara whispered back, hands moving in a fervent motion of don’t worry everything is ok. “You could say he is a more specialized branch of Elemental. Ask him when we return to our dorm, he will explain more.”

6.

The room was bathed in darkness, a lone candle flickering weakly in the gloom. Harsh, panting breaths echoed, knees hitting the floor in fatigue and suddenly the room became bathed in light, bright, glowing orbs illuminating every nick and cranny. Kuroko blinked at the sudden brightness of the room, blue eyes trying to cast away the cobwebs spotting his sight before turning his attention back to his new teacher.

A pleased smile lingered on the man’s features, fake or true, Kuroko could not say, for his eyes were obscured by his long, purpled bangs as they had been from the very first moment they had been acquainted.

“Your teacher has trained you well, Kuroko. But he has barely had time to scratch the surface,” the note of approval lingered in his voice as he offered a hand to the teal haired boy, aiding him to his feet. “The road from here on will get progressively harder. In an ideal world, we would have had years, but our world has stopped being ideal decades ago. There is an east wind coming and I fear we must all be ready to brave it.”

“I understand, Hara-sensei.” It was not news to him; master had been of a similar mindset when he had sent the boy to Teiko, when he too had left his home to pursue dangers unnamed. Once they had been many and their ranks had been able to keep the balance from shifting. Now they were few and getting fewer still with each passing year.

* * *

 

**_In the uncertain present_ **

It hurt, more than he could explain, to see Akashi coming down the stairs, Nigou a dark presence pressed firmly at his side, as it used to be. It brought an ache that he had not known he held until the Sepulcher returned his memories, a pain so deeply rooted in his heart and the lingering memories of a bond, stronger than anything else, uniting two souls that now stood parted. Perhaps it would have been easier if Ogiwara had been right and his memories had not extended beyond the borders of the mausoleum; perhaps it would have hurt less. But the memories were there, raw and bleeding out, a festering wound etched firmly in his recollection, a bittersweet echo of the past. He could not forget them, nor could he fully embrace them, not with Akashi remembering nothing of their shared past, not with the others trapped in paintings in a derelict mausoleum

He had to move on; he had to push aside the hurt and the pain and the overbearing guilt. Otherwise they would not stand a chance. And _he_ would win, as he had wanted to, despite all the sacrifices they had done in the past to keep him from doing so. It would all be futile.

“Go to your master,” Akashi prompted the dog, a soft nudge of his hand – such a familiar gesture – prodding the ghost hound forth, eliciting a happy bark and a shadowy mass bounding down the stairs, skidding to a halt at Kuroko’s side. “I admit to being quite surprised at his appearance. It is seldom that one wins the loyalty of such a specter.”

“Nigou used to be my dog,” Kuroko explained, his placid expression and emotionless tone of voice effectively hiding the mountain of hurt beneath. “He was a gift from someone very precious. When he died,” he choked back the words that threatened to burst forth, the truth lingering beneath. Nigou had not died, he had been killed. “When he died, Nigou chose to come back in such a form. Though, I had not expected him to be able to obtain physical form in this place.”

How much was the curse and how much was backslash? How much was their enemy’s hand and how much was their own magic trying to contain something that normally could never had been contained? It all came boiling down to that day, to that final battle, to his death. But, until the others remembered, he could not know. Oblivion had claimed him long before the end.

“Loyalty. Rare to find nowadays,” Akashi mused, glancing at the dog with intense scrutiny as if trying to fit it in the whole puzzle that had been their interaction since the moment Kuroko had stepped foot inside the castle.

“Not as hard as you would believe,” Kuroko shot back, though in truth his belief stemmed from a world centuries long gone, not for present that he did not know.

“Is that so? Tell me, Tetsuya,” the master of the castle came closer, stepping in the boy’s personal space, mismatched gaze cutting right into Kuroko’s soul, almost as if unveiling layer after layer lingering beneath. Despite the intense scrutiny, Kuroko met it head on, unflinching as he always had even in their shared past. He had nothing to hide, not truly. “Who are you? No villager should be able to come this far, no little peasant caught in this web could survive this long.”

The command seared into him, but it had not the power of before, the force to push him into blind obeisance. He was and was not what his True Name marked him to be; the memories had unveiled his past and with it, his true self. The Order was no longer absolute, not as it had been, not as the other Command still rooted in his very being still was and though he could not lie, he was offered a little leeway to evade the truth.

“I am just Kuroko Tetsuya,” he croaked out, the force of the command still much greater than he had expected it to be. The effort was too jarring for his still weakened self; a harsh cough rattled his breath, specks of blood staining his lips as he forced air back into his lungs. It hurt, the pain seizing his body, the feeling of powerlessness in face of the curse. It hurt and he hated his weakness, like he had hated it all those centuries ago.

Fingers twined in his hair briefly, a clawed hand pressing phantom touches across his temples and down his cheeks, before lingering briefly on his lips and wiping the blood away. Akashi’s gaze was arresting, a mixture of worry blended in with confusion and reluctance as he observed Kuroko gain control over his breathing once more. Teal eyes widened as the mismatched gaze flared purely scarlet for the briefest of moments, before the golden gleam returned to it.

Nigou whined at their side, the shadow hound pressing his nose in his master’s hand in a show of support and Akashi drew away as if shocked, hands curling into fists as a mixture of emotions flitted over his features, turmoil vividly painted before his shields rose back up and a mask of utter disinterest hid everything away.

“This illness ailing you will not go away, will it? You are dying.” The bluntness of the statement might have hurt another, but Kuroko had long been aware of his mortality, even before the memories resurfaced.

“Yes; there is naught I can do about it.” Though Ogiwara had given him hope, Kuroko doubted it would amount to much. Even if he would survive long enough to unravel the threads of the curse, he doubted his body would be able to sustain him afterwards.

“I see,” Akashi replied neutrally, another brief flare of red staining his gaze, raw pain deeply entwined with it, before he retreated, turning his back to Kuroko and making his way back towards the stairs leading to the west wing.

Kuroko’s fingers buried themselves in Nigou’s shadow fur in an effort to ground himself, to make use of his hound’s strength. He had been wrong in thinking that seeing Akashi not remember would hurt the most; seeing the brief flares of recollection snuffed by the curse before his very eyes was even more painful.

The Emperor came last in the order, the final piece to be unlocked. Even if Akashi were to remember, their time together might very well come to an end soon afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note on ages, because I messed them up a little bit and made some Second Years from the anime belong to the First Year group. All First Years are eleven years old when they start at Teiko. The only one exempt from that rule is Ogiwara who in this story is slightly younger than Kuroko, but has received special dispensation due to their teacher.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigou raced through the snowclad expanse of the gardens, path illuminated by nothing but the glowing crescent shining above their heads, Kuroko clinging tight to the shadow hound’s back. It was dangerous, very much so, crossing the gardens in the darkness, with the protection given by moonlight being almost insignificant. It was folly, but there was naught he could do.

_“There is no deed more heinous in the eyes of the magical community than trying to steal another’s power, to leech that which makes them whole and use it for your own purposes. Such spells, although known from the dawn of time, have been stricken out of recollection, condemned and shattered without regret, their practitioners pursued until the very edges of the world until they were caught and punished accordingly._

_Magic lies at the very core of each person; to strip that piece of power from their souls, to break their very being apart, is to leave behind a husk, the broken remnants of what had once been a person, but is now a ruined being with no scope in life. Rumors claim that in time, people stripped of their magic will fade into nothingness, darkness claiming them bit by bit until nothing more than a shadow will remain of them. Lost in the gloom that had claimed them, they will have no way of finding their true selves again, no chance of regaining what had been lost.”_ ( Rumors of the Damned by Mage Harasawa )

* * *

 

**_In the long-forgotten past – Year 1, second half_ **

**1.**

_‘The rule has always been such for our order. An apprentice to take our craft further should we perish. A guardian to maintain the balance of our power, protect us from ourselves and guard our back in battle. Our powers are the easiest to corrupt, Tetsuya. The forces we command can be used for ill, much easier than they can be used for good. But, our order is failing; already so many of us are dead and so many cannot adhere to the rule. There are few we can trust, fewer still than understand.’_

The shadows danced at his feet as Kuroko remembered the words of his teacher, dark mass coalescing into shapes in the dark room at Teiko. His master had not had the chance to forge a guardianship bond with anyone; he had merely had the chance of an apprentice upon whom he had stumbled by happenstance. Kuroko too had the promise of an apprentice, in Ogiwara’s steadfast friendship and wide eyed amazement whenever the teal haired boy used his powers.

His hands moved, the shapes turning into arrows, sharp and deadly, quivering in the air as he forced himself to hold them still. His arms trembled, sweat rolling down his cheeks due to exertion. Inhale, exhale, keep them steady…

_‘You will grow stronger than me, Kuroko. Already you show so much promise. You will need a light to balance your shadow, a guardian to steer you true. And when you do find one, I truly believe the two of you will become something extraordinary.’_

“Now, release,” Hara’s voice came and Kuroko allowed his hands to slash downward, cutting through the air and propelling the shadows forth. They did not hit their target; halfway through they disintegrated, darkness returning to the gloom of the room as the spell failed.

“Again,” Hara commanded and Kuroko nodded, hands moving into position once more. He had never had need to doubt his previous teacher, but as spell after spell failed, Kuroko wondered how much power he truly commanded and whether the other had not been wrong in his assessment.

**2.**

“KISE YOU FLITTY IMBECILE!”

“AAAAH MIDORIMACCHI I’M SORRY!”

A blur of yellow sped down the corridors of Teiko, followed by what seemed to be a human sized green clock that was spitting curses as he struggled to remain on the tail of the first. The image, completely out of the ordinary even for a magical academy like Teiko, arrested everyone’s attention, eyes riveted on the chase, unable to break away. It was as if watching a shipwreck; painful to watch, but impossible to tear your gaze away from it.

“Atsushi, are those your groupmates?” Himuro asked his purpled haired friend with amusement, both lounging by the window as they watched Kise lose his footing and crash on the white marble floor, the clock behind him stumbling over his prone figure and collapsing on top.

“Huh? Yeah. Mido-chin and Kise-chin.”

“Aren’t you going to help them?” Himuro asked lightly, already knowing the answer to the question. “They look like they’re going to break something if they continue as they are. Most likely themselves.”

“Tch, too bothersome. Muro-chin can help them if he wants.”

However, neither of the two got the chance to intervene; black and blue robes came billowing down the hallways, blue eyes blazing with fury and with the practiced motion of one used to handling such situations, Kasamatsu Yukio aimed a well-placed hit at Kise’s back, sending the blond-haired boy rolling down the hallway.

“Senpai, so mean!” the boy wailed, rolling back to his feet in an instant and rubbing his back.

“What are you two brats doing here?” the furious question was accompanied by him grapping a corner of the Midorima-clock and dragging the other upright. There wasn’t much he can discern out of the cacophony of complaints and explanations that erupted afterwards from both boys – _library, trying a spell, missed, a mirror lucky item, the spell rebounded_ – but he got the gist of it well enough. Grabbing Kise by his collar and dragging Midorima along, the elder of the three sighed in despair, before dragging the two miscreants towards their resident healer.

**3.**

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The blue haired boy jumped in fright, hands going to shield his head as he pulled close to the wall, eyes wide in fright while beholding the monstrous shape made of shadows looming in the empty classroom. However, as soon as the final echoes of his fearful yell died out, the shadows dispersed, leaving behind only a confused looking Kuroko.

“Aomine-kun?” The boy asked, head titling slightly to the side as he gazed at his fellow year mate. Although most specializations had specific classes, some such as History of the Arcane were shared by all. It had not been hard to spot the blue-haired boy during lessons, unmistakable along with his other archmage fellows.

“Jeez, you scared ten years off my life,” Aomine said, leaving behind the sanctuary of the wall and getting closer to the teal-haired boy. “They kept saying there was a ghost haunting this classroom and when I saw that monstrosity, I was about to concede they were right.”

An easy-going grin replaced the fright from Aomine’s features, fingers clicking softly in the air and materializing a ball of light which he then proceeded to spin carelessly on his finger. “So, what were you doing here? And what even was that?”

“Practicing,” Kuroko replied with a soft shrug, frustration flickering briefly in his gaze as he thought back to his still failing spell. “It was a spell meant to shape the shadows in the room.”

“So, you’re an Elemental Mage, huh? Come on, I’ll practice with you from now on. Show me what you can do!”

Kuroko did not bother correcting Aomine about his assumption; he was not an elemental mage, though that was what those who noticed his presence at Teiko knew about him. It was easier to pass as such than to explain the intricacies of his true specialization.

**4.**

It was not the first time they were practicing that particular combo together; Aomine was incredibly noticeable, a banner of brilliant light shining wherever he went. Were it to ever come to battle, he would be a much-favored target, the archmage that shone like a beacon among the troops. That was where Kuroko’s shadows came into play; darkness coalescing in mist and clouds, a shield effectively hiding the archmage from sight, drawing attention away from him until he got close enough to strike. The theory was solid, but putting it in practice had been harder than they had expected; Aomine was fast, wickedly so, magic flowing with abandon from his fingertips as he sped from one corner of the classroom to the another and Kuroko struggled to keep pace with him, his control over the powers he commanded tenuous at best.

“You’re getting better, Tetsu, but you’ve got to work on your speed,” the blue haired boy grinned, slapping his friend playfully over the shoulder and ignoring the smaller boy’s look of annoyance as he stumbled from the hit. He was getting better, it was true. But there were things that were still outside his reach, lessons he still had to learn.

“Aomine,” a voice rang from the doorway and two pairs of eyes turned towards the entrance, watching the newcomers’ arrival. Akashi and Midorima beheld the scene with mirroring looks of polite curiosity, taking in the shadows still swirling at Kuroko’s feet and Aomine’s exhausted state, flashes of light crackling around his fingers. “I thought I hadn’t seen you lately. You were here?”

“Yeah. We have been practicing here for a while now. The other classrooms are always crowded and Tetsu’s elemental fellows tend to throw sideway looks whenever his powers are displayed.”

“Elemental?” Akashi mused, red eyes honing on the teal haired boy that rose to the challenge and met his gaze unflinchingly. “Not quite. But I suppose it is a comparison as close as one can get, is it not? Aomine, Midorima, I’m sorry but can you leave us for a minute?”

The two nodded, making towards the exit, with Aomine throwing one last glance behind before shutting the door behind him. In the classroom, the two boys became locked in a game of mutual assessment, a sort of pensive silence growing between them almost to the point of becoming unbearable.

“I had not thought to see one of your order at Teiko. It has always been believed masters take on apprentices that they prepare in seclusion,” Akashi pointed out matter of factly. His gaze still flitted to the shadows gathered at their master’s feet, flitting nervously and uncoordinated as his attention was drawn from them to the other.

“Other matters required my master’s attention more urgently. Teiko was the only alternative,” Kuroko replied deadpan, although the separation still hurt. He understood it, but it was no less jarring.

“The shadows seem to be loyal to you, if nothing else, but you still do not control them as well as you should.” The sentence probably would have sounded insulting uttered by anyone else; however, the extreme confidence Akashi commanded gave no room of doubt for his words. Especially not when Kuroko was aware of the same fact. “They react to your emotions; if you wish to better your control over them, keep your feelings inside. Fighting spirit is necessary, but do not allow it to hinder you.”

The nod that came from Kuroko was expected, as was the determination flaring anew on his features. “Come see me if you perfect your method with Aomine. It would be interesting to see whether you could combine your powers with that of the others for the upcoming tournament.”

**5.**

“Hey, Shin-chan,” Takao asked, head cradled on his arms as he looked at the green haired boy opposite from him. There was a mountain of papers between them, books opened haphazardly and abandoned quills still leaking ink. Neither had the energy to study anymore, hadn’t had it in a long time, but that moment of the day was theirs and theirs alone regardless of what they were doing. “Your new friends are kind of intense, aren’t they?”

Midorima snorted, fingers moving to arrange the spectacles over his nose. “Murasakibara is careless and lazy. Kise is a howling, whining menace that has no concept of personal space. Aomine is always replacing my books with tomes of erotic poetry when I’m not looking. Haizaki is always skipping his classes, I barely get to see him. The only one that is remotely tolerable is Akashi.”

Takao snorted, understanding even better than his friend what the other was saying between the lines. He had seen it in their interactions, in their spell work, in the way the fit so well together. Apart from Haizaki, the others were a formidable group indeed. It made the raven-haired boy so deeply proud of his friend, but incredibly sad at the same time, apprehension blooming in his soul unbidden, jealousy rearing its head though he pushed it back.

“Takao,” Midorima spoke up, emerald gaze bearing in the other’s, inquisitive and resigned at the same time. “I promised I would not leave you behind, did I not? Stop fretting.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Shin-chan,” the boy quipped and if his smile was a little subdued, a little sad, Midorima pretended not to notice. _‘You’re already leaving me behind, Shin-chan, you’re just not seeing it yet,’_ Takao mused to himself, hands clenching into fists beneath the table at his own powerlessness.

**6.**

“They’re so scary,” Ayumi, one of the girls in the Healing specialization whispered under her breath, throwing glances at the archmages gathered at a separate table in the library. The group was not complete; Haizaki was missing as he oft did, unable to actually be bothered with studying. Aomine had yet to arrive and Murasakibara was merely looming around, munching on newly received batch of cookies.

“Their scores are over the roof,” Nakamura agreed, eyes narrowing as he watched Midorima etch sigils on the parchment he was working on, now and then exchanging ideas with Akashi. “Even the teachers are apprehensive. So much power, so soon; they’ll be monsters by the time they come into their full potential.”

“Scary indeed,” Narumi agreed turning back to his work, quill scratching on the surface of the parchement. “The Arcane Tournament is coming soon and I for one am glad I don’t have to meet them in combat. Imagine having to fight against them; the others don’t stand a chance, it’ll be a slaughter.”

Across the room, a newly arrived Aomine Daiki, dragged along a reluctant Kuroko and laughed as he took his seat next to the rest of his group, hands moving to steal Kise’s quill who howled in outrage. In the shadows of the library, a menacing silhouette allowed a pleased smirk to steal over his features. It had already started.

* * *

 

**_In the uncertain present_ **

Nigou raced through the snowclad expanse of the gardens, path illuminated by nothing but the glowing crescent shining above their heads, Kuroko clinging tight to the shadow hound’s back. It was dangerous, very much so, crossing the gardens in the darkness, with the protection given by moonlight being almost insignificant. It was folly, but there was naught he could do.

_‘Remember; the rule is in the colors, in the flashes of light that chase the darkness away. But be wary; there is a pattern to them, a rule that must be followed. Break it and pay the price! ’_

The pattern etched by the candelabra in the darkness, the same pattern written in Imayoshi’s journal: _Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Devil, Emperor_. And what was more, the symbols etched in each of their frames, directions given for the right moment to open the portrait. Kise was the Moon, the first portrait in the lineup and above his head shone a crescent moon, the same one that now guided Kuroko towards the Sepulcher.

“Stop running and come play, little magician,” a voice crooned from the darkness, close, closer than Kuroko would have expected given the dizzying speed at which Nigou was going. His hands curled into fists in the dog’s ghost fur; though he had remembered, the curse hindered his ability to reach for his magic, to tap into the powers that had been his to command centuries ago. He was as normal as any of the villagers in his former home, just as breakable, just as frail. Faced with the power the Ones lurking in the deep recesses of the castle wielded he could hardly hope to make a valiant stand. He needed to trust in Nigou, trust in the shadows that protected him still.

Out of the sudden, rose vines burst from the darkness, razor sharp branches reaching for the hound, trying to waylay him. Nigou jumped, movements fluid as water, paws echoing in the still garden as he twisted and turned, seeking to lose the vines still clinging to his trail. It would have worked perhaps, had it not been for the piece of ice jutting from the ground, the spear like icicle cutting the shadowy mass as the dog turned. Though unharmed – ice could not harm darkness after all – Nigou lost his footing, the slight moment of weakness enough for the vines to catch up. Branches impaled him, shredding the spectral form of the dog, the force of the impact tossing Kuroko in the snow. Before the teal haired boy had the chance to recover, roots burst from the ground, grabbing his ankle and flinging him forcefully in the nearest tree. His back connected with the bark, breath stolen out of his lungs by the impact. He coughed, wretchedly, eyes blurred by tears of pain, shadowing his sight and making him unable to discern his assailant in the darkness.

“Did I not tell you to stop running, little magician?” the same voice from before cackled, the pale light of the moon finally giving shape to the features blending out of the gloom. Ash white hair stood stark against the darkness of the gardens, grey eyes gleaming with cruelty as they beheld the prone body of the boy at his feet.

“H-Haizaki-kun?” Kuroko coughed, blood staining the snow beneath him crimson as the other got closer. Vines stood wrapped around his body, biting into his skin, though without drawing blood. Black roses pierced his wrists, the branches themselves wilted and decaying.

“I do not know who this Haizaki you speak of is, little magician. I am Death,” the other explained with a mocking jeer, before launching his weapons anew. However, as before, the momentum of the attack was lost, when shadows sprung from the ground, wrapping Kuroko in a protective cocoon, effectively shielding him from harm.  

“Man, you really need to work on those skills of yours. Using the same hit over and over again gets old pretty quick.”

A brilliant flash of light accompanied the voice drawling in the darkness, shadows curling around it instead of scattering even as the ashen haired enemy howled in pain and outrage. When the light faded, Haizaki was gone, the brilliance too much to withstand. However, it was not his enemy’s disappearance that arrested Kuroko’s attention, but rather the one standing in front of him, a human shield still enveloped in fading rays of light.

“Kagami-kun?”

Awe lingered in the question, the appearance as unexpected as it was welcome. Though Ogiwara had hinted at it, Kuroko had never expected Kagami to appear so soon, to be able to break through the curse’s boundaries and come to his aid. He should have known better than to doubt the other; Kagami had ever worked hard to go above and beyond people’s expectations of him.

“You didn’t think I’d let Shige have all the fun, now did you?”

“Fun?” Kuroko asked deadpan, head shacking in silent misery. “It is refreshing to see Kagami-kun is the same idiot as always.”

“Oi!”

The outrage soon got replaced by laughter, bubbling and free, breaking out unhindered in the darkness of the gardens. Part of the fear – _the tension, the guilt, the sheer, nerve wrecking terror of failure_ – bled away with the appearance of Kagami. Together they were unstoppable, ever had been. With his guardian – _his light_ – at his side, Kuroko knew they would be able to break the curse.

_( “We’re going to stop him, aren’t we?” Kagami had asked centuries in the past, before their entire lives had faded out of recollection._

_“Yes, we will,” Kuroko had nodded, determination stark against usually placid figures. Now, after a wait longer than any of them could have expected, it was finally time to make that promise reality )._


	9. Chapter 9

_“Magical conduits are widely considered nowadays to be a thing of the past. Magical wielders don’t need to make use of them, having learned to safely harness the potential within themselves and no longer relying on the unpredictable power of raw magic. However, in the very beginning, when magic wielders were far and in between, when their powers were untrained and often needed boosts in combat, magical conduits were considered a necessity. By far, the most common magical conduit wielded by practitioners worldwide, was the staff, a long wooden rod, etched with runes and topped with a gem ( more on the powers of different types of woods and gems at page 394 ). Less used, but still far spread, was the wand; considered to be more difficult to wield than the staff, the wand was used by those able to channel power with more precision than most._

_However, there were those that used extraordinary magical conduits, elements that were one of a kind and gave their allegiance to one wielder and one alone. Perhaps, most famous among these, was a fabled deck of cards, one said to have been found in an old, derelict tomb. The cards, hand painted by authors unknown, have supposedly whispered their location to their master, leading him to their domain. Once he came into their possession, the cards allowed the mage to reach heights of magic previously deemed impossible. However, with power came jealousy and soon the man was found dead, throat slit in the dead of the night and the cards stolen._

_Perhaps the story would have remained thus, if only the cards had not retaliated. Said to have had a conscience of their own, the cards let to the death of all owners that came after the one that truly owned them, one death more gruesome than the other. The trail of corpses finally came to an end when the cards were stolen by a talented thief who was said to have had the gift of foresight. He burned the cards, but recorded a journal, depicting their meaning and the different characters painted on them. Since then, the cards have been a subject of much speculation, yet none truly held the courage to try and replicate them.”_ ( Magical Conduits and their Origins, by Mage Araki )

* * *

 

**_In the long-forgotten past – Year Two_ **

1.

“Were you expecting this to happen?” Midorima asked with honest curiosity, fingers moving to adjust the spectacles on his nose as he looked at the teal haired shadow flitting in and out of existence, warping the darkness around him and cloaking Aomine in it with just as much ease. Though mere weeks had passed since they had last seen him, Kuroko had apparently been able to get past whatever had been holding him back from using his power at full strength.

“No, I have to admit, he has surpassed my expectations. Kuroko truly is surprising,” Akashi replied with the ghost of a smile lingering on his features. In front of them, a till then invisible Aomine, burst out of seemingly thin air, swept Haizaki’s feet from under him and blasted Murasakibara with a well-placed ball of light. At his back, wielding daggers shaped of darkness, Kuroko successfully held his own against a determined Kise who was meeting each hit with a mix of spells, as was his custom; some original while others copied from those fighting around him.

“Well, this year’s Arcane Tournament is bound to be interesting if nothing else,” the green haired boy mused to himself before allowing the winds to sweep beneath his feet and joining the fray as well. It would not do for him not to test his own skills against the deadly duo that had formed beneath their very eyes.

2.

“Kuroko, teach me!”

Ogiwara appeared in his line of sight, face determined and brows furrowed as his hands moved together in a pleading manner. It did not take much for Kuroko to understand what it was his friend asked of him; it took even less for their teacher’s words to come back to him. The true reason why Ogiwara had been allowed to accompany him, the promise of an apprentice.

“Ogiwara-kun, I am barely learning myself,” the teal haired boy tried to explain, a pleading note to his voice. Part of him did not wish to drag his friend in the shadows he now commanded with more ease than ever before. Another part desperately wished to share the burden with someone else, to finally share the secrets lodged firmly in his memory.

“I know. And I am not asking for you to teach me everything. Just the basics. It is why master sent me with you,” Ogiwara paused with a faraway look in his eyes before continuing. “I think, before long, it will be vital that I know these things. Please Kuroko! I was always to be your apprentice. The only difference is that I would start studying sooner.”

“Very well,” the boy sighed. “We will do as you wish. But we need a classroom where none can find us. Hara-sensei would not agree.”

3.

It was petty of him, Himuro knew.

Murasakibara was happy in a way Himuro had never known him to be. He did not show it outwardly, not necessarily, but he was by far more engaged, more interested. Sometimes, he would smile. Other times he would look almost fondly at his new friends. He spent less time idle, munching on sweets, and more time trying to hone his skills

Himuro had never seen him like that; they had been friends for years, ever since their parents had arranged for them ( and for a while Taiga ) to be tutored by the same teacher. They had lived in each other’s pockets, shared quarters and meals. However, never had Murasakibara showed any interest in anything, deeming even the most engaging of lessons “bothersome.”

So yes, it was petty of him, but Himuro was jealous. Jealous of the ease with which the archmages had started connecting with each other. Jealous of them being able to provide something he did not.

And the feelings reared their ugly head especially in moments such as the one at hand.

“Atsushi, aren’t you coming?” They had talked to meet after lunch, to watch their senpai engage in a mock duel in the gardens.

“Can’t,” the boy said as he headed towards one of the training rooms. “Aka-chin wants us to train for the Tournament.”

As he watched his friend put more and more distance between them, Himuro felt a foreboding of things to come, a feeling of unease sliding past his spine and he wondered, for the first time, if it was possible to hate someone with whom he hadn’t even exchanged words till then.

Because if it was, he truly felt that he hated Akashi Seijuurou.

4.

“Tet-chan?”

Takao stopped short upon seeing his bed, eyes going round as the small bundle of fur nestled comfortably on his pillow rose his head and barked joyfully.

“Has someone slipped something in my lavender milk or is there a dog cuddled on my bed. One that looks uncannily like you.”

“That’s Nigou,” Ogiwara piped from the window frame, where he was perched, a book of the arcane spread open at his feet. “Kuroko received him as a present today.”

“Akashi-kun found him in the gardens,” the teal-haired boy explained with a small shrug as he concentrated on materializing a shadow spear in front of him.

“And he gave it to you?” Takao asked dubiously, eyeing the dog as if it was going to self-combust without a moment’s notice. The dog merely barked with joy, head rubbing gently over the raven-haired boy’s hand, demanding to be petted. “Well, he’s cute, I can give him that. But if he pees in my bed, I’m taking it out of your hide, Tet-chan.”

“Nigou would never do that,” the boy’s usually placid voice rose with just the barest hint of outrage. “He’s the best of dogs. Aren’t you, Nigou?”

The dog yipped in joy and proceeded to munch on Takao’s pillow, ignoring the boy’s grumbles and rolling eyes. Best of dogs indeed; why did he have the vague impression he’d be out of linens soon enough.

5.

A crumbled letter was held in fisted hands, ink spreading all over his fingers as Kasamatsu shook in front of the window. The news, though unexpected, did not evoke the feelings he would have thought in him. He felt detached, almost as if the events were happening to someone else, a sort of vague numbness spreading over him. Blue eyes gazed at the horizon, countenance dark, yet he could not find in himself neither regret nor grief.

“Senpai?” a voice shook him out of his reverie, Kise’s oddly subdued voice making him turn his attention from the window to the blonde-haired boy. “Are you… are you all right?” Another letter hung loosely in Kise’s own fingers, the barely broken seal telling him the other must have read the news as well. His mother must have told him, as she had told Kasamatsu.

“I don’t know,” the dark-haired boy laughed cynic, bitter, a sharp hopeless laugh that made no sense to his ears. “Should I be? Shouldn’t I be? I never knew them!” his fingers curled tighter against the parchment, desperation ringing unbidden in his voice. “They never let me know them! Your parents, they were more father and mother to me than mine ever were. I know your mother’s favorite flower and your father’s favorite season. I know what poems they enjoy and what meals they abhor. And yet, I can’t even remember my own father’s features or my mother’s favorite perfume. It’s been years since I saw them. And now they’re dead! I don’t…”

He shook, angered, furious even, at his own weakness, at his heart’s wretched desire to obtain something that could never be gained. At the fruitless hope, he had nursed in his heart to one day come to know and love his parents, hope that had now been squashed forever with their death. An accident… a thrice cursed carriage accident and just like that his desperate hope had been shattered.

Arms wrapped around him, a surprisingly strong grip pulling him in a tight embrace – when had Kise grown so strong? His friend hiccupped softly, a clear sign that he was crying despite trying to be strong for Kasamatsu. And yet, as he allowed himself to fall in the embrace, to return in with equal fervor and hide his own tears in Kise’s shoulder, he found there was no better way to quiet the turmoil in his heart.

Kise’s proximity, the faint carnation smell that clung to his clothes and spoke of their shared home, the scent of peppermint soap that the blonde-haired boy had pilfered from his father before leaving the mansion, made the regrets and the hurt and the grief dim.

Kasamatsu would never have another chance with his parents. But perhaps he did not even need to; they had made their feelings clear after all. Maybe it was time for him to let go at long last.

6.

 _Geniuses… prodigies…_ murmured the teachers as they viewed the unprecedented results yielded by the new generation of archmages.

 _Generation of miracles…_ grinned the headmaster, watching his pupils with pride, already foreseeing the results that would occur during the Arcane Tournament.

 _Monsters… demons…_ grumbled the rest of the school under the breath, fear and awe so deep intermingled that it was impossible to tell where one started and the other ended.

And in the shadows, an unknown presence, continued weaving its trap.

* * *

 

**_In the uncertain present_ **

The Sepulcher was just as still – _as wrong_ – as it had been the last time Kuroko had entered it. His feet echoed on the stone floor, the sound ringing unnaturally loud in the permeating silence and the boy kept himself from glancing at his feet, expecting to see blood soaked ground and the bodies of the fallen. A battlefield, a tomb, that was what the Sepulcher was, an ominous building risen by the curse upon the bones of those that had been felled that day.

“Don’t think upon it,” Kagami rebuked him gruffly, a steady, comforting presence at his side that kept him from descending into the traitorous, sinking memories of his past. A large hand settled on his shoulder, fingers curling in silent reassurance and Kagami’s eyes conveyed what both knew, but neither wished to give voice to. _The failure, the guilt, the despair of that last day…_ “It’s gone and done with.”

“Kagami-kun is right,” Kuroko nodded, “as momentously surprising as that can be. I need to keep moving forward.”

However, it was hard to do when the memories were still raw, festering, wounds that had never had the chance to close because the curse had erased all recollection from his mind. It was different, perhaps, for Ogiwara, for Kagami, who had lingered in the shadows fully aware of their past selves and the blame they all shared. He had just remembered and it was hard to let go, though he needed to do so least he made the same mistakes of centuries ago.

‘ _Keep your feelings inside. Fighting spirit is necessary, but do not allow it to hinder you.’_

Akashi’s words from before, a lesson that had clung to him even in his current incarnation. Kuroko schooled his features in the expressionless façade of before, locking every bit of turmoil he still held deep down. He would revisit those emotions if he survived; as it was they would only hinder him in the long run.

“The Moon, huh?” Kagami inquired as he beheld Kise’s portrait, fingers running through his hair in an absent-minded motion. “It’s the same pattern of before, isn’t it?”

“He has always fond ironies amusing. I believe this is our enemy’s way of mocking our previous efforts and showing to us everything was in vain. I aim to prove him different.”

Pale fingers reached for the painted canvas, a gentle, almost hesitant touch drawing an invisible sigil across the painting. As soon as the last connection was made, the portrait flared with colored light, the paint coming alive, a shining portal meant to allow passage.

“Let the bastards bring it on!” Kagami grinned excitedly, jumping through the portal without a single care in the world. Shaking his head at his friend’s antics, Kuroko followed at a more subdued pace, wondering what it was they would find beyond.

Their enemy might have meant for the portraits to embody eternal torment, but other powers had come into play when the curse had been cast, warping it and turning it unpredictable. Whatever awaited them in the portrait, it was as much their doing as it had been their enemy’s doing. Just like the rest of the magic twisting the castle according to its whims.

* * *

 

“What is this?”

A garden sprawled at their feet, freshly manicured bushes and blooming flowers painting an enchanting picture under the pale light of the crescent moon shining above it. However, the image did not linger; decay fell over the dazzling beauty of the garden, peaceful serenity disturbed by cries of fear, by the echo of footsteps and the jeers of pursuit. Then, the image flickered again, returning to the perfection of before.

“I believe this is Kise-kun’s sanctuary, the garden his mother had planted after his birth and where he spent most of his time with Kasamatsu-san when they were children. But the curse is distorting it, flickering between the images of his childhood and the reality that must have been this place during the war.”

“GET OUT!” A high pitched, childish voice shouted and the two found themselves knocked off their feet, powerful gusts of wind battering at them with unrelenting fury. “Get out, get out, get OUT!” The same voice thundered and a small child made himself visible, yellow hair falling down to his shoulders and golden eyes blazing with fury. His hands stood raised, commanding the fury of the winds, but with each onslaught the child seemed to lose his strength, arms quivering in exertion, the burning fury in his gaze diluting to desperate helplessness.

“Kise-kun,” Kuroko tried calling, but the child shook his head desperately, one last burst of power erupting from his fingers as he cried out in denial.

“I don’t know who you are. Leave me alone! I am the Moon[1] and the moon has to remain alone, always chasing after the Sun.” The child ran before they had the chance to gather their bearings, movements unsteady despite the now calm air.

“What was that?” Kagami asked in bewilderment, eyes trying to spot the gleam of gold running in the distance.

“That was Kise-kun in whatever form the curs twisted him as. A memoryless child if his words are anything to go by.”

_‘They do not remember; nay they cannot remember. The curse makes it so. And here, you cannot forget. You must make them remember, but do not break the pattern.’_

Ogiwara’s words came back to him, but Kuroko wondered how it was that he was supposed to make the child remember. At that age, Kise had had only two steadfast presences in his life: his mother and Kasamatsu. It had been years until he had met the others, until they forged bonds at Teiko. He would not remember either Kuroko or Kagami. The curse might even keep him from remembering his mother and Kasamatsu.

“In that case, we’ll just have to make him remember,” Kagami shrugged as if it was the easiest thing in the world. And perhaps it was, because Kuroko was no longer alone. Because he had Kagami and if he managed to thwart the curse he would have the others as well.

They walk for a while, crossing the expanse of the gardens that seem to be stretching endlessly; the scenery keeps shifting, from alive and vivid, to dead and decaying, a telltale glimpse of disaster that reminded them vividly of the pas they had left behind.

“There are things that remain unchanged,” Kagami pointed out when they stopped, fatigued gaining up on them. “There, look.”

The scenery still depicted the ruins of war, the rotting husk of a once glorious garden. However, even where all surrounding it was dead and gray, a lone flower created a stark contrast with the bleakness of their surroundings, pure white against the withered black: a blooming carnation[2]. 

“Kise-kun’s mother loved carnations; the neighbors looked down upon the flowers because they deemed them too unsophisticated for the extravagance of the garden, but she paid little thought to their mutterings,” Kuroko explained as he approached the flower, fingers brushing its petals softly.

“Stop it!” The voice of before shrieked and the child appeared, mud streaked and crying, wild desperation painted on his features. “Don’t touch that!”

“Why?” Kagami asked bluntly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. There was no mistaking the stark fear in the child’s eyes, his tenuous grip on the courage that had propelled him so far. ”What are you so afraid of?”

“He said I’d die. He said the flowers keep me alive and if they wither I’ll die. And he promised that they’d wither one day and I’d just have to stay and watch. And he laughed and laughed and laughed.” Small arms wrapped around his body to stave off the shivers that wrecked it, tears rolling down muddied cheeks. Now that they were able to look closer, the child was thin and wounded, chalk white skin and glazy eyes speaking volumes about his state. Kise was nearing his breaking point.

“You won’t die,” Kuroko cajoled him, a come-hither movement beckoning the child close. “He lied. He always lies, you just don’t remember that yet.” The child approached on unsteady feet, small hand pressing itself to a larger one as the teal haired boy gently tugged him closer, wrapping Kise’s fingers around the stem of the flower.

“It’s warm,” the child exclaimed in awe, fingers pressing ghost touches to the petals and the leaves. “It feels safe.”

“It’s yours.”

“Mine?” Kise exclaimed in soft puzzlement, magic crackling around his hands as fingers closed gently around the flower and plucked it up. A moment of pause ensured, of utter stillness, until power in raw form burst from the ground, a shining, golden beacon that knocked everyone off their feet. The magic wrapped around the child in a tender embrace, shielding him from sight and cradling him, soothing away the injuries and the sickness clinging to his very being. And then, the memories surfaced, a cry of agony ripped from Kise’s very being as he remembered.

* * *

 

_The baby is small and frail looking, tufts of golden hair sticking out awkwardly from the bundle he is swaddled in. His eyes are still clear blue – they will not change for months to come – and he gazes at his mother in silent adoration, at this wondrous being that holds him close and makes him feel safe, safe, safe. To the side his father beholds them with unbridled glee, a rare, precious smile lingering on the usually stern features._

_“He’s so small,” an unhappy, childish voice comes from the side of the chair and the baby’s mother smiles indulgently as she gazes at the dark-haired boy tugging to her skirts. His parents are away yet again, on another diplomatic mission and the woman wonders if it wouldn’t be better if she merely asked them to leave the child with herself and her husband, instead of just shuffling him to their place whenever they don’t have time for him._

_“He is small, Yukio-kun. And he’ll be small for quite a while now. So you must protect him, ok?”_

_“Yeah, I guess,” the boy answers petulantly, yet he raises on his toes to gaze at the baby better and silently vows that nothing will ever harm him. “I’ll take care of you, Ryouta.”_

* * *

 

_“Come here you brat, stop hiding! We’ll give you the ass kicking of your life.”_

_The child cries as he hides in the bushes, face stained by snot and mud, eyes glassy with terror as he forces himself to stay still, not to make any sound. He hadn’t meant to show off, to be better than them. The spell had looked so cool and he had wanted to try and it had worked, so why were they so mad?_

_“Bloody brat what do you think you’re doing leading us on a merry chase?”_

_Footsteps echo closer to him, hands rifling through the nearby bushes and the boy firmly believes he is done for. There is no way they are not going to find him._

_“Oi, what do you think you’re doing here? Who let you in the gardens?”_

_“Shit, scram, it’s Kasamatsu.”_

_Yelps of pain echo in the gardens, followed by shouts of misery and the running footsteps of those in the wrong. A sigh of long-suffering misery follows and the second voice calls out in dismay._

_“It’s ok, brat, you can come out now.”_

_“SENPAI!” the boy springs from the gardens, launching himself at his dark-haired savior and knocking him to the ground. For the first time, Kasamatsu does not berate him, merely tugs the child closer to him. ‘I promised I would take care of you and I intend to,’ goes unheard in the still gardens._

* * *

 

_The child cries and cries; there seems to be no end to his tears as he clings to Kasamatsu, stubbornly refusing to let go despite the carriage waiting patiently at the side and the older boy’s mounting frustration. Perhaps he should have expected it; Kise is clingy on the best of days. The knowledge that he will be separated from Kasamatsu for two whole years must have come as quite the shock to the child._

_“Kise, stop it right now,” Kasamatsu growls, forcefully dislodging the child from his arm. The boy’s mother ( and Kasamatsu’s pseudo-aunt, gods know she had raised him more than his own mother had ever done ) stands snickering to the side, turning a blind eye to her adopted nephew’s plight. “We will see each other in two years.”_

_“But, senpai, that’s such a loooong time,” the child whines, rubbing at his eyes furiously. He did not want to be away from Kasamatsu for such a long time. What if the other forgot about him?_

_“It’ll pass before you know it brat. And when it’s time for you to come to Teiko, I’ll come pick you up, ok?”_

_“Promise?”_

_“Yeah, I promise. You know I never break my promises.”_

_“I’ll hold you to that, senpai,” the child nods with a newfound look of determination in his eyes. Reluctantly, he lets go of Kasamatsu and stands back, allowing the other to turn to his carriage._

* * *

 

_Teiko is grander and more majestic than Kise could have ever expected; its sprawling corridors seem to go on endlessly and its staircases gleam in the candlelight blaze. It is no wonder that he gets lost again and again, even as he tries to navigate the expanse of the castle successfully._

_“This is impossible,” the boy grumbles in frustration as he passes yet another suit of armor that looks identical to the previous ten he has used as reference to find his way._

_“Hey, Kise!” A voice calls from behind and the boy turns, a smile fluttering on his face at Aomine’s approaching presence. “Lost again?”_

_“Yeah,” comes the glum reply. “Senpai’s gonna berate me again for being scatterbrained. But this place makes no sense. You turn left and end up in a place that was in the right a day before.”_

_“You just gotta let you magic guide you,” Aomine grins, aiming a friendly slap at the blonde-haired boy’s back and making him stagger. “Come one, I’ll show you how. We’re late anyway, might as well make good use of the fact.”_

* * *

 

_“Kise-kun, I admit to being slightly curious about how you managed to turn Midorima-kun into a green clock,” Kuroko states in his usual expressionless tone, a mug of vanilla milk cradled carefully in his hands as the two of them look at their friends furiously engaging in a snowball fight on the castle grounds._

_“Kurokocchi, not you too! I already had Aominecchi and Momoicchi poke fun at me enough. If Midorimacchi hadn’t had a blasted mirror as a lucky item, the spell wouldn’t have rebounded,” Kise sighs in exasperation, placing his head on his hands as he leans on the window frame._

_“I doubt Midorima-kun will forgive you anytime soon,” the teal-haired boy points out sagely, a small smile on his face when he looks at his dejected friend._

_“I know,” Kise replies glumly, “which is why I am here, inside, and not in the gardens subjecting myself to Midorimacchi’s lack of mercy. His levitation spells are scary; last time he picked me up and tossed me into a snow pile before I even had the chance to think about retaliating.”_

* * *

 

When the light died out completely, an older Kise stood in the child’s place. Not his true age, not yet, but older and with knowledge shining in his eyes, memories that had not been there before swirling in the golden gaze. Astonishment bloomed on his features as he beheld Kuroko, though signs of confusion lingered as he glanced uncertainly at Kagami.

“Kuro-kocchi?” he asked haltingly.

Before Kuroko had the chance to answer, thunder boomed in the gardens and the image flickered, before dying out completely. Pitch black darkness washed over the scene and by the time light returned, Kise had vanished and the wide expanse of Teiko spread at their feet.

 

* * *

 

[1] The Moon is an illusive and confusing card. It suggests the presence of risks, secrets, and some level of mental confusion. The Moon can mean: unknown territory, fear, uncertain reality, the desire to hide from the world, solitude. When the Moon tarot card appears things might not be quite as they seem.

[2] A white carnation symbolizes remembrance


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Teiko and it wasn’t; or perhaps it was more accurate to say it was the Teiko of their fall, the Academy as it had stood burning, drenched in loss and blood while they took their final stand. The crumbling towers set aflame by the power of their spells, the dead, charred gardens trampled mercilessly by iron clad feet, the shards of shattered protection domes, glimmering uselessly as they littered the ground. A Teiko of loss and defeat, a Teiko trampled to the ground by the very forces that opposed them, the symbol of their uselessness, of their utter failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, this is very late! I'm sorry guys, I really am, but I made the mistake of watching Shingeki no Kyojin and boooooy is that thing addictive @_@ ( fun fact, I had sworn to all and sundry for three whole years that I will never, in my life, watch SNK. Ooops! ) I need to thank @deyanirasan for kick-starting my writing drive again. Without her I'm pretty sure this chapter would have been out months from now.

_“It is hard to know nowadays what legends are mere fables and which stories hold a grain of truth in them. Our world has changed drastically, the use of magic surpassing even the wildest expectations. None are truly able to know how it all started, what foundation the arts of the arcane held and in which shape they were wielded in the yonder past. Rumors speak of raw magic given form in the shape of people, of academies beyond anything we may behold now, or a time when True Names had yet to come into being. However, perhaps the most frightening of all tales of our past, is the legend about the purge._

_The purge, an attack relentless and merciless that spread across the land, aimed at magic wielders regardless of skill or specialization. A cruelty that stripped those in its path of their magic, of their very core, leaving behind trails of shadows and bodies if the enemy proved to be merciful. History does not tell us what caused the purge, what vile fiend or army might have debased themselves such, stripping themselves of the smallest bit of humanity as to condone such depraved acts._

_What remains known nowadays is their desire for amassing power such as it had never been known before, their determination to bolster their own magical core to such degrees as to be able to topple the very gods. Nobody knows who or what it was that stopped the purge. After tearing through the land, the enemy faltered all of the sudden, defeated by adversaries unknown._

_Some say a magical backslash as never before splintered the land, causing a rupture in the fabric of reality and hiding the battlefield in a universe shaped only of magic. Others say True Names came into being in wake of the purge, a remnant of the outburst of magic that rippled across our world, returning to the core of the earth from whence it had first come and leaving marks in its trial.”_ (Tales from the fringes of our world by Cleric Kimura)

* * *

 

**_In the long-forgotten past – Year three, first half_ **

**1.**

It started with a whisper. A tendril of malice slithering across the ground of Teiko, wrapping itself around the minds of all those it encountered in its path. Words dripping with poisoned, honeyed whispers hiding jagged barbs.

Look at them, the voice said, look closely. What do you see? Where can such power come from? Unnatural, monstrous even. Children still and they brim with it. Look closely. Are they even human? Such power cannot be contained by one person alone. It will burst and when it does how many will be felled in its path?

**Do you not fear them?**

So it started; with a whisper, a seed of doubt planted in the minds of those that already allowed jealousy and rancor to fester in their souls.

**2.**

**You are better than them. The only one who can beat you is you.**

The more he tried, the better he became, the less the others struggled when they engaged in magical duels. His powers bloomed, his agility coupled with his innate control over magic, allowing him to become a blur, casting before the others had a chance to retaliate, before they could even utter their own spells.

It wasn’t a challenge anymore, it was a chore.

“Testu,” Aomine said leaning carelessly against one of the marble columns in their practice room, a ball of light spinning maddeningly on his fingers as he gazed in the distance. “Are you afraid of me?”

Blue eyes snapped at him in shock, the icy calm mask slipping for a few moments. “Aomine-kun?”

“Everyone else is. Not the archmages; the rest. The more I practice, the better I am, the weaker they seem in comparison. And they fear me. Me, us. The teachers are proud to add another trophy to their mantle and the others do not know how to scatter when they see us.”

“Aomine-kun is being an idiot as usual,” Kuroko returned deadpan, a wisp of darkness spreading from his fingers and stealing the ball of light from the other’s grasp.

“Oi.”

“Of course, I do not fear you. Each day I have to struggle to keep up with you. Were we to duel, my powers would do little in face of your skills. My control is better, but not absolute. My shadows answer, but are not at full strength. And still I would never want you to go easy on me or slack off. Besides,” Kuroko smiled, “I believe someone stronger than you will pop up soon.”

“Huh? Guess, you’re right,” Aomine shrugged, a hopeful smile flickering briefly on his features.

“Aomine-kun?” Kuroko added, the shadows at his feet moving all of a sudden, a sort of disquiet nervousness taking over them even as their master betrayed no restlessness at all. “I do not believe the others truly fear you. There is something else at work here. Something malevolent.”

**3.**

**You do not need anyone else.**

The target burst into splinters, the reach of his spell twice longer than anything anyone had ever accomplished before. The air moved under his touch, twisting and turning, transforming into a howling wind that spiraled from the marking line to another target, even farther away, barely discernible to the naked eye. The sound of the impact echoed in the gardens, the gnashing teeth of his peers the only response to yet another flawless casting.

“Fucking showoff,” a boy grumbled under his breath, close to him, too close for his words to be anything but a blatant challenge.

He turned, fingers pressing his spectacles upwards, words already forming on his tongue, a scathing remark to put him in his place, when a foot swept out of nowhere, mercilessly knocking into the boy’s ankles and bringing him to the ground in one simple movement.

“Ooops, sorry about that, how clumsy of me!” Takao grinned unrepentantly, arm swinging over Midorima’s shoulders with abandon and grey-blue eyes glaring with undiluted fury at the other still lying on the ground. “That was amazing Shin-chan! Do it again?”

“No,” Midorima replied coldly, shrugging the arm cast over his shoulder. He did not understand his reaction, not truly; Takao’s presence had never bothered him. But there was an undercurrent of anger shimmering under in his veins, making his skin itch, a building annoyance that told him to cast the other aside. “I did not need your help, Takao.”

“Shin-chan?” There was hurt in his friend’s voice, hurt and confusion. Midorima wished to turn to him, to take back what he had said, but the red haze was still settled over his gaze, the anger still palpable so he snapped once more.

“Don’t you have better things to do? Your dueling class is starting in less than a minute.”

**4.**

**Crush them all. Why bother with any of them at all?**

“Atsushi? Are you not going to your practice?”

“Tch! Too bothersome.”

The boy sprawled over the bed, purple hair obscuring his eyes as he started at the ceiling above. Fingers clenched and unclenched, a fist forming and releasing as he refused to even glance in Himuro’s direction. His mind was restless for the first time, fear curled tight inside him, and he hated the feeling.

“I don’t want to practice anymore, Muro-chin. This power… it just wells out. If I used it to its full potential, I think I could crush everyone.”

He stilled when he felt fingers carding through his hair gently, teasing at each strand and wrapping it around long, nimble fingers. His hand rose to catch Himuro’s, just the slightest bit of pressure applied, not enough to be painful, but enough to be a warning, a proof of his earlier words, even though he had meant his magic and not his physical strength.

“Don’t you fear me, Muro-chin? I could crush you as well.”

“You’re my friend, Atsushi. I could never be afraid of you.”

**5.**

**You cannot lose. You are absolute.**

“I listened to you till now Aka-chin because I felt I could not ever win against you. But now I feel like that is no longer the case.”

Midorima and Kise stopped in their tracks upon entering the practice room, eyes going wide at their two fellows measuring each other, their eyes cold with anger and rebellion. The room itself felt darker, colder and a shiver ran down their spines, a feeling of unquiet they could not explain nor comprehend.

“I don’t wanna follow directions from people weaker than me,” Murasakibara continued, words uttered in a lazy manner as magic flared around him, a whirling hurricane battering at the shields the remaining tree hastened to put up at only a moment’s notice.

“Don’t be so conceited,” Akashi replied, anger tangible in his words as his shield expanded forward, bursting in jagged pieces of fire that tore apart the howling hurricane Murasakibara had unleashed. “Duel me, if you feel so assured in your victory.”

**6.**

**I can offer you so much more.**

 

“Something is wrong,” the brow haired boy huffed as he knelt on the ground, hands firmly plastered to the wooden floor, struggling to catch his breath. “Even I can feel it. You can’t tell me you haven’t, Kuroko!”

“I have,” Kuroko sighed, hands moving through his hair in an agitated manner as he thought back to all he had seen, felt. The signs, the glimpses, the nagging suspicion growing louder and louder at the back of his mind.

“Do you think…?” Ogiwara asked, brown eyes widening slightly at the other’s nod. “But it’s forbidden, completely and utterly so. Master told us when we first started our lessons, when you asked about the forbidden arts.”

“Even so. We know our order has been targeted. We know Master has gone to aid them as much as he can. Perhaps this is yet another backslash of that war. And now, with Hara-sensei having been forged to accompany that pilgrimage…”

“You might have to intervene. If it continues… you are the only one who can Kuroko. There’s ice building in their gazes, a disregard for all as their powers continue growing. As those whispers build momentum. You might be the only one to be able to cast the shadows aside.”

“Ogiwara-kun,” the words were said hesitantly at first, but determination stole over the teal haired boy’s features, a relentless drive burning in his hardened gaze. He knew too little to be able to dismantle such magic, was still untrained. But he would do all in his power, no matter what. “I will!”

* * *

 

**_In the uncertain present_ **

It was Teiko and it wasn’t; or perhaps it was more accurate to say it was the Teiko of their fall, the Academy as it had stood burning, drenched in loss and blood while they took their final stand. The crumbling towers set aflame by the power of their spells, the dead, charred gardens trampled mercilessly by iron clad feet, the shards of shattered protection domes, glimmering uselessly as they littered the ground. A Teiko of loss and defeat, a Teiko trampled to the ground by the very forces that opposed them, the symbol of their uselessness, of their utter failure.

The image flickered as before, a never-ending loop switching between the Teiko filled with glory that had marked their formative years and the fallen academy that had signaled the end despite their most valiant efforts. Or perhaps because of them; had they not caused its fall in the very end?

“Teiko,” Kagami murmured in a faint voice and there was a world of grief and regret in his eyes as he beheld the shifting image.

“Teiko,” Kuroko nodded as he made his way forth, eyes scanning their surroundings searching for a flare of gold and yet another element that stood out from the rest, a key to unlocking the rest of Kise’s memories. There were still questions lingering on the tip of his tongue, still things he did not know – _could not know_ – but it was neither the time nor the place to ask them. He knew, deep in his bones, that whatever had happened that final day would be revealed once the curse was broken.

“Do you think we need to find another flower?” Kagami questioned, feet neatly sidestepping a flare of the fire bursting from the ground as the image shifted before their eyes once more. Had Teiko been so utterly devastated? Had their defeat been so thorough? Kuroko would have once said no, but looking at the image unfolding at his feet, he was no longer sure. Or perhaps such was how Kise had seen the Academy in those final moments.

“I think that we need to find Kise-kun. Whatever we are meant to find, I believe he will beat us to it. He remembers now, if only a little and his curiosity will drive him to remember more.”

The earth rumbled, rock and stone shifting under their feet, a full-blown tremble that was not quite an earthquake; an Elementalist’s last hope, a desperate spell cast to stave away the dangers getting closer. Though none of those that had perished on the grounds lingered in this state of in-between, the echoes of their spells still make themselves known, hindering Kuroko and Kagami as they made their way forth.

“Look,” Kagami whispered, hand reaching in the distance as his keen eyes spotted a golden-haired figure kneeling abjectly at the side of yet another unchanging flower, a marigold[1] this time. A still child-like hand twitched close to the stem of the flower, tears streaming down the boy’s cheeks as he kept glancing at the burning wasteland flickering around him.

“Kurokocchi,” Kise whimpered and his eyes were brimming with fear, a tangible terror that kept him from regaining the rest of his memories. “Do I want to know?”

The words got stuck in his throat, the denial raw and powerful, begging to be uttered. Kise would not want to know, neither of them would, but they had to. No matter how much Kuroko wished he could spare them, erase the painful memories forever from their past, there was no going forward without reconciling with what had happened.

“Kise-kun,” the teal haired boy tried to answer, but before the words could be uttered, fingers closed around the stem of the flower, plucking it with ease. As before, the same burst of light knocked them off their feet, the feeling of wrongness abating as the past rushed over them. Kise burned with ethereal light, his golden eyes blazing like the sun as his body morphed and grew, knowledge dawning on him at long last. Magic burst from his fingers, warping the scenery around him, freezing the picture halfway through, brilliance and decay blending in equal measure.

* * *

 

_They win the first Tournament. Nobody quite expected otherwise so it’s not a surprise. They high of the victory makes him laugh like a loon, a huge, bright smile splitting his face as he looks at the others. Their joy is no less palpable, but perhaps more subdued, a bubbling river where his is a torrent. Only Aomine partakes in his overblown enthusiasm, throws an arm across his shoulder and brings him close, while his other hand ruffles Kuroko’s hair even as the smaller boy bats his hand away to make him stop._

_He does not stop to look around him, to see the dark looks others throw their way, to hear their murmurs, their dissent._

_He does not stop to think of their missing member, does not question the story Akashi had told them, that Haizaki had chosen to leave Teiko due to personal problems._

_He does hear the whispers in the shadows, does not see the tendrils of darkness wrapping around the minds of the others at Teiko, bolstering their fear, their suspicion, their hatred._

* * *

 

_It soon becomes familiar, intoxicatingly so perhaps, the power he wields. He grows and his magic settles, reaching levels unseen till then. His peers are in awe – jealous, fearful, monster they call them all, yet he never pays attention to them long enough to hear -, his teachers are proud, a second trophy almost secured for their academy and it is easy, so easy to consider himself better._

_It starts small. With taunts, with jeers. With spells performed mockingly – flawlessly, always perfect – in front of the others even as they struggle to complete them. With winds sweeping down to trip them and an icy gaze wordlessly pointing every little flaw they have._

_It starts small and it escalates, his thoughts too frantic to be able to discern the dark magic warping his behavior, to feel the shadows banking in his blood, twisting him until he becomes something he had vowed never to be._

_He continues in the same vein, drunk on a second victory, on another Tournament won and he does not realize how wrong he is until he sees disapproval – no, not disapproval, that he had seen before. Rather disappointment – in Kasamtasu’s gaze, hears his senpai’s words flaying him alive, pointing how callous he had been, how utterly wrong._

_Until he is left behind, Kasamatsu’s robes billowing behind him, his parting words tearing into him worse than anything before. His mother’s letter comes as a second blow, her words echoing Kasamatsu’s and he would feel ashamed, if he had not felt angry, so angry for what he saw as their abandonment._

_‘I did not believe you would had it in you, Kise. To fall as low as the boys who used to torment you.’_

_‘Ryouta, if this is the path you have chosen to embrace, it makes me wonder whether I have failed you as a mother.’_

_It is Kagami who manages to break through, Kagami with his power blazing like the sun, with the awkwardness of a newcomer having joined Teiko much too late and the determination of a thousand bulls. Kagami who challenges him to a magical duel without the same fear in his eyes that the other Teiko students have, that befriends Kuroko from the very first moment they meet, that teams up with him to completely trounce Kise._

_It is the loss perhaps that cracks the magic keeping him captive, that disperses the shadows in his mind. It is the loss and the sheer brilliance of Kagami’s magic, a sort of warm, protective magic that cuts through the darkness like a scalpel and leaves behind only the rightness of before._

_Guardian magic, Kuroko will call it after he had brought everyone back to themselves._

_At the moment, he does not know what has happened, merely understands that he had been played like a puppet, that someone had toyed with him – is toying with them all – and if there is one who has the chance to bring them back, it is Kuroko and his new light._

_( Later on, part of him will resent both his mother and Kasamatsu for not realizing that it had not been him, not fully, acting thusly. Part of him will want to scream and rage against them, but Kasamatsu comes to him with fists balled and tears in his eyes, with utter wretchedness on his features and he chokes on tears and his apology, begs for forgiveness and promises to be better._

_‘I promised I would take care of you and I failed,’ he says, eyes pooled with self-loathing and the golden-haired boy wraps his arms around him, brings him close and mutters forgiveness in the dark-haired boy’s ears. They are young still, too young to have known the wretchedness of the world and if the teachers had not noticed the dark magic taking control of his mind, what chance would have Kasamatsu had to spot it?_

_Even later, when his mother dismounts from a carriage, blue eyes brimming with unshed tears, as the scent of carnations engulf him when she draws her son in an embrace and begs forgiveness, he tells her there is nothing to forgive._

_It is only then that the dark magic twisting his soul fully disperses, but he does not know it. )_

* * *

 

_It is perhaps anticlimactic when they find the culprit, when they understand who had messed with their minds for so long. When Kuroko stands before him, small and angry, brimming with a fury that dazes all of them, that makes Akashi press a steadying hand on the boy’s shoulder. The shadow hound at their side howls in anger and their enemy takes a step back, eyes widening at the spectral apparition_

_( Kise still remembers Kuroko sobbing and heartbroken, cradling Nigou’s still form as the last vestiges of life fled the hound’s body )_

_It is perhaps just as anticlimactic when the other flees – when the headmaster allows him to flee – even as they all wish to tear him apart, but are not allowed to. And the reason becomes clear soon enough; he is a lackey, not the masterminds. A tool, not the hand wielding it. They are still fighting an invisible foe, one that is tearing through the country and trying to get to them. He had tried to do so from within and failed; now he will try to reach them from the outside._

* * *

 

_“A spirit bond!” the boy exclaims, golden gaze going wide as he stares at their leader in dismay. “But Akashicchi, that is…”_

_“Mind magic cannot overcome a spirit bond. Such a link would protect us without fail, if he were to choose to employ the same method again. We cannot be caught unawares again.”_

_Akashi’s scarlet gaze seeks Kuroko, apologetic as it often is whenever the past is brought to light. The teal haired boy’s hands are fisted in his robes, eyes clouded with a unique brand of anger and determination, the shadows at his feet swirling maddeningly in accordance to their master’s mood. His control over them is absolute, their allegiance to him complete. The time for secrets is long past._

_“I think it is a good idea,” and it is startling because the decision comes not from their group, but from Kagami, leaning leisurely against one of the stone columns as he beholds the others. His lack of trust in Akashi is notorious, told to all and sundry, so it is surprising to see him the first to acquiesce to the scarlet haired boy’s plan._

_“No need to look so surprised. I’m not that dumb not to agree with a good plan even if it comes from scissor hands there.”_

_Someone coughs. Akashi’s face twitches in annoyance. Kuroko sighs to the very heavens and Kise wishes fervently that Kagami never changes. If only because now Akashi has a better target to get mad at than him._

_“We still do not know who it is we are fighting against. Any option that might give us an advantage is not to scoff at, even if it’s something as complex as a spirit bond,” Midorima points out, his own gaze still haunted by the past events. Of all, perhaps he had regretted his actions, his words the most._

_“Tch, I don’t care. I just want to crush him when we find him. He made me hurt Kuro-chin and Muro-chin,” Murasakibara grunts from his spot on the floor, munching on a pastry as he speaks. There is a slightly murderous edge to his words, anger in his gaze and Kise has no doubt the boy will do well on his threat, given the chance._

_“Tetsu is already protected by his magic. But there’s nothing protecting him from ours if we fall prey to him again. I agree with the plan; we can’t rely on Bakagami to snap us out of it again, even if we go with the idea that he will be able to do so a second time,” Aomine adds his own approval and the regret in his voice is as palpable as the guilt in his eyes. They had all failed Kuroko, each of them more than the other, but Aomine had perhaps failed him the most._

_“Kise?” Akashi inquires and though the choice is all but made, he nods as well. There is nothing, nothing that he will not do to make sure he does not hurt his friends as he had in the past._

* * *

 

_When the Headmaster dies two years later they know the time has come._

_They cannot leave, not when they know Teiko is the true target of their enemy’s crusade._

_Sanada takes Shirogane’s place but he is weak, unable to protect the academy if the enemy decides to make an appearance. Many of the students are still too young and untrained. Many of the older ones had long left to their own homelands when news of the danger broke._

_But just because they cannot leave, it does not mean the others cannot. It does not mean their brave, foolish, desperate friends cannot don armor, robes and weapons, to try and meet the enemy head on. It does not mean Kasamatsu is not determined to go back to their home, to make sure all is right with their family when Kise’s mother stops answering to their letters._

_“Senpai, it’s a trap,” Kise’s hands fist in his robes, eyes wide and desperate even as part of his heart chants to let him go, to send aid to his mother, aid he cannot give himself._

_“I know,” his hands are gentle as he pries Kise’s fingers away, as he looks him square in the eye. “And there’s a chance I won’t come back. I promised to protect you when you were still a babe, but I’ll have to break that promise again. She is like my own mother; and if there’s the slightest chance, I need…”_

_“I know, I know,” his breath hitches, a sob pushed back, “I won’t try to stop you. Maybe everything is ok. Maybe the letters were lost. But if it’s not, if she needs you, I can’t…”_

_A dagger makes its way out of the folds of his robes, the blade cutting into skin with precision, drawing blood and bringing magic to the surface. “You’ve always protected me and I can’t do that in return now. But I can make sure you are not alone,” Kise explains as he offers the dagger, pommel first._

_Kasamatsu nods, a bitter smile on his face as he repeats the gesture, before bringing their hands together and sealing the magical ritual. A blood bond, the strongest they could shape with the time given to them._

_“Please come back,” Kise murmured through his tears. ‘I love you,’ remains unsaid._

_“I will,” Kasamatsu vows, but it rings hollow to both of them. Love brims in his eyes as well, but the words remain unuttered._

* * *

 

_He knows the exact moment when Kasamatsu reaches their home and finds the mansion torn apart and set ablaze, the gardens a charred ruin, his parents’ broken bodies left like gruesome tokens on the stone bench where they used to play when they were kids. His mother’s beautiful hair is matted with blood, her face covered in deep gashes that had long stopped oozing blood. His father’s face is frozen in a rictus of fear, bones in his arms and legs jutting out of his skin._

_He feels the burn of magic, the first hit that catches Kasamatsu unaware as their enemy steps into view. Feels the rage burning in his blood, the anger, no the absolute fury that is coiled tightly around his senpai’s very being, the same fury that howls in his ears, that shrieks in his lungs, that makes him want to leave Teiko and tear apart with his own hands the monsters that dared!_

_It does not surprise him to see Kasamatsu’s opponent, not in the slightest. However, it does surprise him to see how strong the other had gotten, how much his powers had grown and fear grips Kise’s soul when Kasamatsu falters, when the hits that touch him become more than the ones he is able to parry, when his strength, even bolstered by Kise through their shared link dims more and more. He howls in dismay when the raven-haired boy falls to him knees, sight blurred by the blood dripping in his eyes, teeth painted red and breathing ragged. He cries out when magic courses through Kasamatsu’s body, setting pain alight in his bones, carving his skin from within._

_“NO!” The ragged cry of despair torn from his throat makes the walls of Teiko tremble as he sees the gleam in their enemy’s eyes, the knife held above Kasamatsu’s chest, as the older boy severs their bond without hesitation, desperate to protect Kise till the very last. ‘I’m sorry,’ is the last thought that drifts to him before the knife falls._

* * *

 

_“I will kill them. I will kill them all,” he vows, his fury tangible as the very air around him crackles with electricity, as he sees the same dead, devastated looks in Midorima’s eyes, in Murasakibara’s. Sees the same loss, the same pain and it’s unfair, it is so unfair._

_“We will win, even if we have to die to do so.” Blood drips from Murasakibara’s fists, his nails having long pierced skin and flesh. He trembles, with fury, with anguish._

_“We will defeat them. No matter what,” Kise hisses and around him the others nod, the decision to abandon all in favor of winning carved in their very souls. There can be no other alternative. ‘I will avenge you, senpai,’ he silently promises to himself. ‘Come hell or high water, I will make them pay.’_

* * *

 

“Senpai,” his throat was raw, sandpaper dry. He felt the copper tang of blood flooding his mouth and the pain let him know he had bitten his lip raw while the memories had returned to him. Tears ran down his cheeks, tears he had not even known he was shedding and as his eyes locked onto Kuroko’s gaze, he saw regret flaring on the other’s features, a silent apology and a world of guilt weighing on already burdened shoulders.

“Kise-kun,” Kuroko called tentatively, approaching his friends cautiously, like one would with a skittish animal.

“I remember. Gods, I wish I didn’t, but I do Kurokocchi,” Kise snorted bitterly, hand moving over his eyes to wipe the tears still lingering on his eyelashes. “And it was all for naught. It was all for gods damn naught.” Shrill laughter echoed in the air, a dead sound born of desperation and loathing, poison coating each sound as it drifted to them. “Man, for all our boasting and our powers, in the end we were able to solve nothing at all but lock ourselves in eternal torment. Fitting I suppose!”

“Yo, stop with the dramatics,” Kagami barked from a few steps away when it was clear Kuroko’s guilt kept him too frozen to respond. “He’s still out there. Haizaki too. You can stay here and moan about the past or you can do something about it. You made a promise to Kasamatsu, didn’t you? Think it’s high time to honor it.”

“Kagamicchi?” Kise asked in confusion, just then noticing the other. A moment passed before his words started making sense, a knowledge long abandoned returning to full vengeance. He was there. Haizaki was still there. The promises they had made, the vows they had uttered… they could still be fulfilled. He would not give up, not yet. Kasamatsu deserved better.

“Huh! Even after all this time, you’re still kicking us in the right direction,” the boy added ruefully, an apologetic smile flickering on his features as he nodded to Kagami. Yes, he would stop feeling sorry for himself. As long as Kuroko was able to dismantle the curse, a second chance would be granted to them all. It was time to do his part.

His gaze turned to the newest flower lingering near him. A pink lilac[2], fresh and unchanged, though clearly torn from a branch. As his fingers closed around the stem, bringing the flower close to his heart, a soft light engulfed Kise, before spreading through the entire frozen scenery, washing it away and changing it.

A music room, soft cushions gathered haphazardly on the floor and a piano playing without aid. A large window with red drapes framing it and the scent of carnations drifting in the air. The image did not flicker, did not waver as before. It remained steady and serene, as though brought forth from Kise’s past.

“Four more to go,” the golden-haired boy said softly, drawing Kuroko in a tight hug before the images started blurring around them. “You will be able to return, but for now the time is up.”

Moments later, Kuroko found himself in the sepulcher once more, Kise’s framed picture now depicting a soft smile as it gazed warmly at him. Kagami was nowhere to be seen, but his disappearance did not surprise the boy in the least. There was only so much strength Kagami and Ogiwara were able to spend fighting the curse, before the world of shadows beckoned them back to its side.

* * *

 

It was only when the Sepulcher had been left far behind, when the distance towards the castle had been almost completed and Nigou had returned to him in the form of a pup, not having the power to complete his true form yet, that the results of his mission made themselves known. A sharp pain lodged itself in Kuroko’s chest, specks of blood painting his pale lips red as he coughed, the curse retaliating in full. He had not expected it to happen so soon, had thought he would have enough time to make it back to the castle. His skin burned beneath his clothes, the vines spreading, curling, taking over his body inch by inch.

The curse had been weakened, that much was certain, its onslaught less powerful. However, his frail body could hardly hope to be able to sustain its strength in face of the crippling pain that washed over it. His feet staggered, knees buckling as he fell in the snow. At his side Nigou whined, phantom fur pressing to his body in an attempt to stave the cold if nothing else. His vision swam, images blending together in front of his eyes.

“Tetsuya,” a voice called sharply, red washing over the encompassing white as clawed fingers rested on his shoulder, their grip almost bruising. Blue eyes rose to meet scarlet, a question swirling in them as Kuroko beheld the whirlwind of emotions battering for dominion in Akashi’s usually placid gaze. There was anger there, a banking fury as Kuroko had beheld during their days at Teiko. But there was confusion as well, a lingering uncertainty as glimpses of red stole over the gold in his gaze.

“What have you done? What am I remembering? There is a woman in my memories.”

Before he could have time to answer, to pose questions of his own, Nigou howled, a sudden burst of power making the pup turn into the grown specter of before, his body leaping in a fluid motion. Jaws snapped in mid-air, teeth closing over the thorned vines spiraling silently towards them.

Haizaki stepped into view, fists clenched in fury, the vines clenched around his very being blackened even more. Petals feel dead at his feet as he walked, withering roses littering the ground. “No more, little magician. It stops here; I will let you go no further.”

The moon illuminated his harsh features, face contorted in deep sated hatred and for the first time Kuroko wondered what had truly happened to drive Haizaki to such lengths. At his side Akashi’s grip became tighter before the red haired rose to his feet, the glimpses of red from before disappearing completely from his gold eye. He pushed Kuroko behind him, body falling naturally in a fighting stance.

“You will not harm him,” he said softly, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of violence lingering in each word, each syllable. “He is mine.”

Haizaki stood his ground, fear flaring though his memories remained as tightly locked as those of the others. He might not remember Akashi, but the muscle memory was still there, the knowledge that the predator in front of him was more than he could ever hope to challenge.

“My vines itch to tear your throats out, to snuff that haughty light from your eyes,” Haizaki snarled, bravado wielded to hide the fear that took over him. “But I am no fool. Master wants you for himself Emperor, and I will not risk his wrath. Beware little magician, there are monsters hiding in the darkness. And all are out for your blood.”

With those final words Haizaki vanished, the darkness engulfing him whole, leaving behind naught but the shinning moon and the silent gardens.

* * *

 

[1] Marigolds represent death, mourning, loss or grief. They are commonly found flowers in funeral arrangements.

[2] Pink liac means acceptance in the flower language.


	11. Chapter 11

_“Few magics are truly forbidden in the study of the arcane. Necromancy, however abnormal or abhorrent might seem to some is practiced freely, though with limitations. Love potions are sold at local markets by well-meaning witches seeking to try their hand at matchmaking or by wicked crones delighting in the mayhem they cause. Glory can be bottled, death can be stopped in its tracks and even the long departed loved ones can be contacted through various magical means._

_However, there are three branches of the arcane that have long been forbidden, banished from recollection, erased from parchment and tome until nothing but the mere whisper of their existence remained. They could not be rid of completely; there are still those that practice them, in secret, that delight in the destruction they can cause with their aid. However, a punishment more fitting than death awaits them. None found to be practicing the arts of the forbidden arcane are spared, regardless of motive or desires._

_Mind magic, voice magic, soul magic; unforgiven arts that may never be practiced least the destruction from the long-lost past returns with the same vengeance. Mind magic that warps the thoughts of the victims, tendrils of darkness seeking the darkest part of their very being and dragging it to the surface. Voice magic that compels the victim to listen to it, a siren lure that cannot be disobeyed, not even by the strongest of the strong. And last of all, soul magic, the foulest of the three. The ability to rip one’s very core from their being, to part magic and soul, and harness their power for yourself, leaving behind nothing but a restless shadow and a body bereft of life.”_ ( The arts of the forbidden by Mage Araki )

* * *

 

**_In the long forgotten past  - Year Three, second half_ **

**1.**

“Impossible,” Momoi whispered, surprise written plainly on her features as she beheld the match between Murasakibara and Akashi. The alchemist had arrived just before the duel had started properly, in time to witness the first clash. However, the tide swiftly turned in Murasakibara’s direction, the strength and relentless onslaught of spells barely met by the red-haired boy. What initially started as an offensive strategy soon turned to defense as the rain of spells continued battering at Akashi’s shields.

“Honestly, this is a bit… no, it’s quite disappointing,” Murasakibara drawled, the hurricane building between his fingers bursting with power as it met Akashi’s fire storm head on. “This spell will be the last. After it breaks through, I will be able to do as I wish.”

A gasp echoed from Kise’s side, hands quickly flying to his mouth to stifle it, though none paid any attention to him. ‘To think it would have been such an unequal match,’ the golden-haired boy thought to himself, eyes following the others’ every movement.

The fire in Akashi’s hands flared in intensity for a moment, scarlet eyes brimming with disbelief. ‘I am going to lose?’ the thought rang unbidden and before it would have the time to fully form he squashed it completely, a travesty never meant to happen. ‘It cannot be. Such a thing cannot be allowed to happen. I must win… no matter against whom… no matter what happens… no matter what. The victor is acknowledged and the vanquished is disavowed.’

Red eyes widened, dangerous expression shifting in their depth as a golden hue stole over one of them. **You cannot lose. You are absolute.** The words of before echoed in his soul, a howl shifting through the very recesses of his being and his hands came together, a roaring tornado of fire ripping every bit of Murasakibara’s magic to shreds and bringing the boy to his knees. “Because I am victorious over all and I am always right!” The words became lost in the roar of the spell, but their meaning burned in the power of the attack, in the intensity of his gaze.

“What happened?” the shock spread through the assembled watchers like wildfire, Momoi’s question giving voice to what they all wondered. “Something’s different! This is not the Akashi-kun we’ve known until now.”

“You’re getting a little bit carried away, Atsushi,” the red-haired boy said softly, steps echoing faintly on the stone tiles as he approached his fallen team member. “Don’t get me too angry. Anyone who ever acts against me is never forgiven.”

The fire gave a final roar before dimming and settling in the shape of a bird, a phoenix that perched itself on Akashi’s shoulders.

**2.**

They would have practiced more had Kise not come barreling in the training room, a look of haunted fear stark on his features. His hands trembled, breath coming in ragged gasps and he looked as one who had been faced with their darkest fears.

“Kurokocchi you must come! Murasakibaracchi and Akashicchi… they… something’s wrong!” he cried, voice devoid of his usual penchant for drama, desperation clear in each syllable he uttered. “Midorimacchi sent me to bring you!”

With a last glance at Ogiwara who nodded his approval, Kuroko dashed after Kise, wondering what could have happened. The whispers had been growing in intensity as of late, strong enough that even a novice as untrained as his apprentice had been able to pick them up. But he had not thought they would turn the others against one another; if anything they had seemed aimed at isolating them from the rest of Teiko.

It did not take more than a single glance for Kuroko to understand. As soon as he saw Akashi… it wasn’t the color, the arresting golden hue residing in an eye that had previously been sunset scarlet. No, it was the ice that had stolen over the mismatched gaze, the sense of superiority exuding from the very being of the other, the dismissive demeanor he adopted upon noticing Ogiwara standing awkwardly in the doorway, having followed Kuroko in his run.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi stated upon noticing Kuroko, nary a glance thrown in the other Miracles’ direction. “Good, you have arrived. I have decided it is time to revise our strategy for the Arcane tournament.”

“Oh?” Kuroko asked calmly, blue eyes meeting Akashi’s mismatched gaze square on, despite the turmoil in his soul. His entire being screamed **_wrong, wrong, wrong_** , but he pushed the feeling aside. It was not the time to lose his calm.

“However, there is someone here that does not belong.” Gaze turned from Kuroko to Ogiwara, a smile devoid of any hint of warmth flaring on his features. “I wish to speak only to my teammates. It is best if you leave,” there was no mistaking the threat in his words, the frost seeping over each barbed syllable as he beheld Ogiwara with contempt.

Brown eyes widened in apprehension, feet rooted to the spot and before the younger boy had the chance to react, a roaring fire burst from Akashi’s fingers, shaping in the form of a phoenix that barreled towards Ogiwara. The brown-haired boy’s reaction was instantaneous, a shield of water rising from shaky, hurried movements, absorbing part of the hit and softening the blow somewhat. Even so, the force propelled him outside the door, slamming the oak wood tightly shut.

“Ogiwara-kun!” Kuroko called, feet turning to run to his friend before a muffled assurance of wellbeing came from beyond the door.

“Tetsuya, stay. There are other matters requiring your attention, more important than a weak elementalist,” Akashi called, an edge to his words that had never been there before, not in any of their talks, an undercurrent of power, of raw magic making the blue haired boy’s steps freeze without their own accord.

“Akashi-kun?” Kuroko’s composure slid off his features, blue eyes widening in confusion first and later in understanding as dread pooled in his soul. Such magic was not meant to be. “What do you… No, who are you?”

“I am Akashi Seijuurou, of course!” And the smile was cold, ice cold and twisted, a mockery of his former self and for the first time Kuroko feared he had lost before he had even had the chance to try and fight the magic winding around Teiko.

**3.**

The library was silent; the sound of Midorima’s quill on paper was the only noise that rang in the oppressive stillness of the place. Surrounded by books and nothingness his mind churned over the events of the previous hours, over Akashi’s change and the voice that kept whispering in his ears even then. He had noticed glimpses of the other Akashi before, but never so startling, never so completely in control. And that voice he now used; arresting, compelling, unable to be denied. It could not, nay it was not, natural. Caught as he was in his thoughts, he did not hear the footsteps running across the stone tiles, the soft cling of metal in the air and the swish of robes settling next to him.

“Shin-chan!” Takao skid to a halt at Midorima’s side in the library, anxiety stark on his face as he wrangled his hands together. “Shin-chan, what in the world happened? Shige-chan came to me with burns and said something about Akashi being more of a bastard than he usually is – which, granted is hard – and then Tet-chan came with this dead expression in his eyes and did not utter a single word to us. What in the world happened? Why did Akashi hit Shige?”

The words jumbled together, a frantic onslaught that did not seem to wish to end, not when he had seen two of his friends looking more defeated than they had ever been before, not when he had soothed Ogiwara’s burns and tried to cajole Kuroko into eating something. Whatever had happened must have been bad, otherwise the two would not have been so affected.

“Shin-chan, will you tell me?” he asked, hand wrapping against the other’s shoulder and shaking him softly, trying to bring him out of the stupor he too seemed to have fallen into.

The touch broke through his haze, but a feeling of anger replaced it, a red veil falling over his eyes, effectively making him blind to the one talking to him. His hand rose, winds gathering at his command and he snapped, hurling the spell at the irritant, the intent to harm – to incapacitate – clear in his movements.

The cry of pain that followed his attack effectively brought him back to himself, green eyes widening in shock as he saw Takao lying with his back against one of the bookshelves, tomes scattered all around him and his wrist cradled in his lap. Blue-raven eyes swam with hurt, with betrayal and overwhelming sadness that Midorima could not bear to look at him.

“Takao…”

“Shin-chan you liar,” the tears that fell down his childhood friend’s face brought a memory in sharp focus, a promise from before. Takao, small and frail, barely five years of age and brimming with excitement at the thought of studying magic with him. And himself, aloof and annoyed, having no desire to share his tutors with the nuisance that had barreled in his life. He had lashed then, as he had lashed now, the winds at his disposal pushing the other boy down a hill, making him roll to the bottom. Grass had gotten caught in his hair, dirt stained on his pudgy cheeks and his body had throbbed in pain. Takao had cried then as well, deep, gut-wrenching cries that almost made him choke, dirt and snoot mingling with the saltwater on his face.

‘ _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Stop crying, Takao please. Teacher will skin me alive if he sees you. Stop, I’ll do anything ok? You can study with me and I promise I will never use magic against you. Never!’_

“You absolute liar. You promised!” Takao rose to his feet unsteadily, back firmly pressed to the wooden shelves to maintain his balance.

 _Help him,_ a voice hissed in his mind, but it got silence by the stronger voice cajoling **_leave him, he is nothing, he is no one._** The choice was taken out of Midorima’s hands when Ogiwara came barreling in the library, a look of pure, unadulterated hatred levered at the green haired boy as he cast an arm around Takao’s waist, helping him move towards the exit.

“Are you ok?” Ogiwara fretted, eyes roaming over his injured roommate, the anger pushed aside in favor of helping the other. Takao nodded, a jerky, defeated moment, even as his eyes sought Midorima.

“It is best if you do not bother me from now on, Takao,” Midorima snapped, a layer of frost coating over words not his own, his own mind chanting – **no no no** ­­­- as the raven-haired boy’s gaze burned with anguish and betrayal.

“Liar,” Takao whispered once more, admonishment coated in poison and he left, casting nary a glance behind. _‘You promised you would not leave me behind,’_ remained unsaid, the sorrow and the hurt too powerful to bear for the time being.

“It is better like this,” Midorima reassured himself, attention moving back to the tomes he had been studying. _‘At least in this way, I won’t hurt you again.’_

**4.**

Murasakibara brimmed with power, a being of energy and rage that stalked their quarters as a tiger locked in a cage. Power crackled around him like static energy, the friction of an upcoming hurricane building up and Himuro knew, knew all too well he should have left him be, should have kept away from his friend when he worked himself in such a state. But he had never been one to err on the side of caution, so he approached, fingers barely grazing the purpled haired boy’s robes before the magic lashed out, a small tornado picking him up and spinning him madly, before spitting him like a ragdoll on the wooden floor.

He coughed, lungs scrambling madly to gather air back in them, his vision spinning madly, the purple blur at his side calling his name franticly finally coalescing in a concrete form after a few moments. A hand rose to capture the one roaming over his sides to check for broken ribs, fingers squeezing tightly before finally, finally, the grasp was returned.

“Muro-chin,” the boy called, his voice filled with desperation, with raw, tangible fear. “Muro-chin, please!”

“I’m fine, Atsushi,” Himuro finally managed to say, words hoarse and chocked. “I’m ok. Just took me by surprise.”

“You are not fine,” the other replied, the frenzy of before dying to utter stillness. His hands stopped their movement, frozen in place as if scared to touch the already darkening patches of skin under his fingers. “Muro-chin is hurt because of me.”

“Atsushi, it’s not… I took you by surprise.”

“No. There’s something! Kuro-chin said it to Mine-chin, but wasn’t able to explain properly. Something is wrong. With all of us. Dark and twisted, always whispering in our minds. I already hurt Aka-chin because of them. And now I hurt Muro-chin. I can’t… I won’t… I will find them and crush them, but until then…”

Fingers rise to press at Murasakibara’s lips, the stem of words, the feeling of powerlessness, of desperate anger stopping their flow at the gentle movement. Himuro gazed at him softly, a sort of sad resignation flickering on his features.

“Atsushi, what do you want me to do? What do you need from me?”

“I need Muro-chin to keep his distance from me. I can’t worry about you and try to find them, to fight them. Muro-chin is weak and breakable and I can’t protect you like this, I can only hurt you again and again.”

The nod that followed in wake of his words was every bit as sorrowful as Murasakibara expected it to be; however, what he had not expected was the feeling of loss in his own soul, the utter wretchedness sweeping over his entire being and he hated it, oh how he hated it, but it was for the better. At least his friend would be safe even if they would both be sad. Better this than the outcome; better alive than crushed by the lashing powers he commanded.

**5.**

It didn’t feel wrong; the other was clearly a weakling, unable to cast even the simplest levitation spell. In the beginning Kise had only aimed to show it to him, to cast a perfect rendition of the spell and taunt the younger boy with his inability to rise to the expectations of Teiko. It was ludicrous not to be able to cast a levitation spell in the second year. However, that decision changed when the boy glared at him with hate filled eyes, when he demanded to be left alone and scrambled to get away from Kise upon seeing the blonde-haired boy had no desire to leave.

He should have let him go; logically, Kise knew that all too well. However, a deep, dark part of him egged him on, told him to make the boy pay, to make him respect his superiors. Had he stopped to think about it, he would have realized the voice in his head was eerily similar to that of the boys who had tormented him in his childhood. However, he did not stop to think, merely casted the same levitation spell, this time on the younger boy himself, lazily turning him upside down and rotating him in the air.

He laughed as the boy struggled, his indignant shrieks dying down, turning to sobs and begging. He laughed as the other started crying, face red with exertion, fingers clawed in his clothes to keep his robes from going upside down and obscuring his vision of sight. It was to this scene that Kasamatsu came, fury washing over his features, a sharp gesture of his hand sending a hex barreling in Kise, knocking him none too easy in the nearest wall, while a gentler movement made the other boy descend. The child ran, scared, arms and legs sore, but Kasamatsu remained in place, turning to face his childhood friend.

“I did not believe you had it in you, Kise. To fall as low as the boys who used to torment you.”

The words were uttered softly, deceptively so, but there was no mistaking the disappointment stark in his words, the mountain of hurt in his gaze and the bitter tilt to his features. He did not say more, merely turned, robes billowing behind him as he left Kise behind, shaking with fury and a lack of understanding that would linger for months to come.

* * *

 

**_In the uncertain present_ **

_The woman is warm, all soft angles and a serene face, eyes brimming with love as she gazes at her newly born child. The tuff of red hair is barely visible above the blankets keeping the babe worm and a hint of scarlet peers from eyes barely opened. At their side, a man, austere and solemn, gazes content at the picture the two form, but makes no move to interfere. The child is to be his mother’s until he will be old enough. Then he will become his heir._

* * *

 

_Gentle eyes peer at the baby settled comfortably in his crib, fire butterflies floating above his head as pudgy hands reach to grab them even as they fly well out of his reach. The child laughs, delight clear on small features and the woman at his side smiles, attention residing on him for moments before her gaze turns to the book in her hands, stories bursting to life in smoke, shapes trailing before the child’s eyes as the tale unfolds._

* * *

 

_The woman laughs, hands clapping in delight as the toddler clinging to her skirts makes his first steps, sparks of fire bursting from his step with each wobble. The magic has come early, too early if some are to be believed, but she pays little attention to their gossip. She is proud, fiercely so, as she watches the magic cling to her son like a second skin, as she watches him grow and blossom. A dark corner of her mind whispers the happiness will not last, but she does not allow it to taint her happiness. The gift of foresight that had followed her through generations has never been wrong, but she does not need to let it rule her life._

* * *

 

_He starts training when he is three; he excels of course, as is expected of him, goes well beyond the expectations of any of the tutors his father could bring to him. His magic is a whirlwind inside him, but he learns to tame it, to control it, to assume complete dominion over it. His mother is proud, eyes shining and bright each time he shows her something new, words of praise falling easily from her lips. His father offers no such praise, demands better and better, nary a moment to rest for the child, not even when he is allowed the rare moments of time alone with his mother._

* * *

 

_Nebuya is a training companion, but he is not a friend. The boundaries are set early on, either by his tutors or his father, the boy knows not. It is a lonely sort of arrangement, but then again so is most of what being a member of the Akashi household entitles. At least he has his mother and though he is starved for more, this must be enough._

* * *

 

_When his mother falls ill, he knows better than to hope for the best, not when he sees the resignation in her eyes, the darkness in his father’s. He conjured fire butterflies to make her laugh, weak as it might be, regals her with stories of his accomplishments just to see that smile again and again and again before the end comes. She is still warm and still soft, still his staunchest protector._

_‘I love you so much, my darling. I am so very proud.’_

* * *

 

_When she passes, he wishes to grieve, but is not given the reprieve to do so. He still manages, in the dark of the night, away from the prying eyes of the servants and the demanding gaze of his father. He conjures butterflies, forces himself to remember her laugh and cries._

* * *

 

The trek back to the castle lapsed in silence; Kuroko had long slumped over Nigou’s back, eyes half closed and breathing ragged, the little strength he had retained after the Sepulcher ordeal all spent. There was much he would have wanted to ask, questions about Akashi’s memories forming on his lips, but remaining unuttered, fatigue making even that simple action nigh impossible. How much had the other remembered? Why had he remembered? Would he continue doing so as each piece of the puzzle became unlocked, as each of their friends remembered themselves?

Another peculiarity attracted his attention, the lack of ebony wings flaring at Akashi’s back. The appendages had seemingly vanished, leaving behind only the horns and the claws, another sign that the red haired was returning to his former self. A sigh escaped blood stained lips as they passed the threshold of the castle, the warmth of the interior almost lulling him to slumber. It wasn’t until they reached his room and Nigou whined at him to dismount that he forced his eyes open, feet dragging him reluctantly to an upright position.

Blue eyes blinked tiredly, peering at Akashi through dropping eyelashes even as shivering fingers tried to fumble with the knots of his cloak. “Your wings…” Kuroko meant to ask, before a yawn took over his words, swallowing the rest of the thought.

“They disappeared at the same time I regained memories of a woman who must have been my mother.” Akashi explained, moving closer into Kuroko’s personal space, eyes trained on the sluggish movements and the mounting irritation on the boy’s features as the ties refused to detangle. “It is curious. I had been perfectly content when I held no previous recollections apart from this castle. And yet, know that I have remembered her, I wish to know more.”

Akashi drew closer, hands gently pushing Kuroko’s aside and deftly untying the cloak that swiftly fell at the blue haired boy’s feet.

“Akashi-san is too bold,” Kuroko said, though he made no move to push aside the hands that were now deftly unbuttoning his shirt. He was simply too tired, both on a mental and physical level. Since coming to the castle it often felt as if he were living two lives, the life of the village’s hated Offering and the life of the mage that had died so long ago.

“Tetsuya, your garments are soaked and carry the entirety of the gardens atop them. I would rather not do another vigil at your bedside if you fall ill due to your stubbornness.”

“Akashi-san,” the denial stood at the tip of his tongue, the desire to contradict the other, however the words stammered to a half when another flash of scarlet flared in Akashi’s gold eye. Clawed fingers rose from the buttons to his cheek, ghost touch gentle, cautious and yet assured at the same time, an echo of before.

“No, that is not how you call me,” Akashi said, the gold returning to his gaze. “I do not remember you, but I know that much.”

“Akashi-kun.”

“No. It sounds truer, but no.” It vexed him that he could not remember what made Tetsuya important, what drove him so relentlessly at the blue haired boy’s side. Before the memories had started flashing, it had been merely curiosity, a sort of detached amusement that came with having a worthy opponent. Now, he felt something was different, but knew not what it was.

“Akashi-kun,” Kuroko repeated stubbornly, fingers moving back to fumble with his soaked shirt. It was the most he could offer, the most he himself could handle. The closeness was already too much, the knowledge of their past grating when the other did not remember. To offer more, to allow himself to hope for more was unthinkable.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi chided, though he stepped back, allowing Kuroko to shrug the shirt off his shoulders. Had he been a lesser being he would have flinched at the sight that greeted his eyes after the soaked garment was cast away. As it was, his eyes narrowed; the rose on Kuroko’s chest was in full bloom, black vines and thorns twisting maddeningly across the entirety of the boy’s torso, up his shoulders and down the length of his arm. The skin beneath was red, inflated, as if it had been scrubbed raw one too many times.

“Tetsuya, turn,” he commanded, the power in his voice too strong to deny in Kuroko’s weakened state. The boy’s feet moved instantly, turning to face the fireplace even as his back was bared to the other’s gaze. The same spindly branches covered part of Kuroko’s back, though they stopped halfway through as if having been cut in mid-growth.

“A curse?” Akashi asked, though the words were more a statement than an inquiry. Clawed fingers trailed down the branches etched on the other’s pale skin, making the boy shiver under the touch and unconsciously lean back. Kuroko’s entire body quivered, the proximity too much and not enough, a contradiction that almost made him weep in frustration. He felt like a man starved and though he yearned for more he knew there would be no fulfilling such a wish. Not when Akashi did not remember what they were to each other.

“Where do these scars come from?” Akashi asked, a dangerous edge to his words as his fingers came to trail the bumps and indentations in Kuroko’s skin that had not been covered by the curse. The touch became firmer, hand splaying to cover one of the jagged scars on Kuroko’s back and the boy’s breath hitched, memories of this life making their way to the forefront of his mind. He had almost forgotten, too caught in the past to pay any heed to the present.

_Ghost child. Demon child._

Had that been part of the curse as well? An attempt to be rid of him before he would be given the chance to dismantle it? Or was it perhaps the cruelty of humanity, the desire to rip to shreds what was different, what was considered unnatural. Like it had happened before, in Teiko.

“The villagers were none too fond of me. I did mention in the beginning, that I wished to be rid of them, did I not? They believed I was cursed and would bring doom upon the village.”

The words came without emotion, a matter of fact belief that hurt less in hindsight than it should have. With the memory of the past wrapping him in its arms, with the sweet smile of his mother still vivid in his recollection, he would consider the village merely a badge of survival, the first step in a road that led him back home.

“Why are children barred from the forest, Akashi-kun? Why does the curse spare them?” He thought he remembered a time, soon after his mother’s death, rough hands pushing him past the threshold of the woods, knees hitting the ground with force too great for his body, the pain and the shock making him sob pitifully. And he remembered a light, warm and bright, engulfing him in its brilliance and leading him back.

“I do not know. It has always been so,” Akashi replied easily, too quick for it to be the truth, though he gave no sign of hesitation as he spoke.

_‘Ask not the Emperor for he will give you a false truth.’_

The words from the journal came back to him and Kuroko wondered who it was that guided the children back, whose magic led them home and whether Akashi truly did not know.

“How long?” Akashi asked, fingers pressing down the black vines on Kuroko’s shoulders. “How long until it completes?”

“I do not know. It spreads faster each time I dismantle a thread of the curse,” Kuroko replied, body shifting to be face to face with Akashi once more, before moving aside, turning to the wardrobe to drag a new shirt over his head.

“Then, why do you continue struggling so? Would it not be easier to allow the curse to remain in place and stop your own from spreading?” Genuine bafflement echoed in his voice, the disapproval lingering beneath the words easy to perceive.

“Because I am selfish,” Kuroko replied, a serene, though sad smile lingering on his features as he explained. “Because I do not wish to live in a world without the others. In a world where only I remember and Akashi-kun does not. This is why I will not stop fighting, not as long as I hold the power to change things.”

Even before, when odds had not been in their favor, when their enemy had pursued them relentlessly, he had not stopped, not even with his death. He would not stop now, when he finally had the chance to make things right.  


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The howls rang late in the night that day, chilling the blood in Kuroko’s veins as he made his way past the stillness of the gardens, towards the Sepulcher once more. With each step he made, the cries of the wolves rang closer and closer, loud in the dead stillness of the gardens. They could not yet pass the threshold, not without forsaking the form the curse had given them and becoming nothing more than formless spirits. But, soon, Kuroko knew, as the curse weakened, the barriers would start blurring. And then, the threat looming in the gardens would be more than just Haizaki and his thorned vines.

_“I met a shaman once, an exiled one, battle scared and weary, having crossed the entire expanse of the world on foot, or so he claimed. His once dark eyes had dimmed to milky white, old and wrinkled hands barely able to clasp the staff now used as a walking stick. However, despite his age, his mind was razor sharp, recalling with perfect clarity each of the journeys he had made, the sins that followed him and the way in which he had tried to right his wrongs. It was he that first mentioned soulbinds, that spoke of the links that are barely more than rumors at our academies._

_‘Soulbinds are mighty strong,’ he’d say, ‘unbreakable some claim. Something to be yearned and feared at the same time. A connection that linked souls on a level none of us can comprehend. Meeting yer souldbind’s supposed to be momentous, a blast of trumpets and o choir of goddesses, an enlightening as never before. ‘s what the tales say anyways. Load of bullshit if ya ask me. Some folk have soulbinds and never know. Others discover the link’s with their enemy. ‘s only when the connection between the two is already strong, already unbreakable, when trust and love links ‘em before anything else that such a bind can be completed. ‘s why it all goes to hell if one dies ‘fore his time. Because it’s not only yer soul rupturing, ‘s yer heart as well.’_

_I do not know whether I believe him or not. His words seemed assured enough, as if he had lived them himself, sorrow shimmering in the empty, unseeing eyes. And yet how can I trust the words of a wandering nomad when our very studies have yielded precious little about souldbinds. Such connection are and will perhaps remain, a mystery.”_ (Tales from the fringes of our world by Cleric Kimura)

* * *

 

**In the long-forgotten past – Year three, second half**

**1.**

Things continued to change, all of them caught in the whirlwind that was their growing powers and the continuous wins. Others came from different lands, some set on challenging them, others wishing to avenge previous losses. Their presence seemed to animate Aomine, the hope that magic duels would start becoming interesting once more fluttering weakly with the arrival of Inoue Tomoyo.

For a moment, Kuroko allowed himself to hope as well. Hope that Inoue would be enough to challenge Aomine, that his friend would rediscover his passion for magic and dueling.

The blue haired boy had not thought his hope would be crushed so easily. He had not expected to see Inoue freeze in mid-duel, allowing himself to be knocked over, not bothering to fight any more. The same defeated expression lingered in his gaze, the same submissive look.

“I don’t think you realize how much of a monster you truly are,” Inoue stated, fear and disdain dripping from each word, effectively ruining any joy Aomine might have obtained from his recent victory, before stalking off in the direction of his temporary quarters.

The dark-haired boy turned to Kuroko, a defeated, yet resigned look carefully masked under the first glimpse of the haughty arrogance that would later come to be his trademark. “I’m sorry, Tetsu. It seems… the only one who can beat me is me.”

**2.**

Ogiwara limped into the room, face smudged with dirt and clothes tattered beyond belief. His brown eyes blazed with fury even as he hauled his battered body in the common bathroom, peeled away the ruined garments and tried to restore a semblance of normalcy to his being. Later, as he stepped out, hair still dripping with water and body bundled comfortably in a warm robe, he cursed himself for not making sure the rumors would not spread. Kuroko waited for him, eyes downcast and distress written plainly on his features, the feeling of guilt so palpable in the air he could have cut it with a knife.

“Ogiwara-kun!”

“I don’t want to hear it,” the brown-haired boy said, raising a hand to silence the other. “It’s not your fault your friends are as they are. It’s not your fault that Kise and Aomine were harassing the first year Elementals nor that I got involved and got my ass handed to me, okay? So, I don’t want to hear you apologizing, Kuroko.”

“They kids were just an excuse. They knew you would not keep away.”

They had started targeting Ogiwara more frequently since Akashi’s change, since Ogiwara had protected Takao and ripped one into Midorima for treating the raven-haired boy so cruelly. It was usually Aomine and Kise that challenged the younger boy, sometimes Murasakibara, and Kuroko hated he was powerless to stop them, powerless to break apart the thread of darkness keeping them tight in their claws.

“Do you know how we can return them to themselves?” Ogiwara asked, plopping on his bed.

“Yes, but we need guardian magic. My powers alone are not enough. And I do not know any in Teiko able to wield such type of magic.”

“But I do,” Ogiwara frowned thoughtfully. “I need to talk to Himuro. His brother might be able to help if he comes to Teiko anytime soon.”

**3.**

“Guardian magic, huh?” Himuro mused, eyes peering at Ogiwara and Kuroko intently. To the side, Takao pretended not to listen in, hell bent of ignoring anything that had to do with Midorima and failing miserably. It hurt, the separation, the breaking of a bond that had kept them connected for years. He was not as selfless to step back quietly as Himuro had done. He hadn’t even been smart enough to recognize the signs.

And it hurt… so damn much.

“My brother has been studying guardian magic with our tutor for the past years. He inherited the skills from his ma and Alex was the best in her field to teach him. But Taiga’s mom passed recently and I’m not sure when and if, he’ll come to Teiko. **”**

“Could you try writing to him, at least, Himuro-kun? I do not think we can handle this without his help.”

The teachers pretended not to see or truly did not understand what was happening. With Hara-sensei still away on his pilgrimage and his Master unreachable, Kuroko did not know what could be done to bring the others to themselves, if their plan did not work.

“Yeah. It’s not like I don’t want to see Atsushi come back to himself.” Himuro had never seen his friends so distraught – fearful even, terror etched in his very being, unable to control himself – their entire life. “If Taiga can help, the least I can do is try to reach him.”

**4.**

“Tetsu-kun?” the knock at the door came shyly almost, a mop of pink hair peering in the doorway as she searched for signs of the blue haired boy.

“Come in, Momoi-san,” her quarry called from within, tired eyes raising from the tome of magic he had been studying to gaze at the girl. Dark rings framed her bloodshot eyes, features paler than usual and stained by tear tracks. She took a seat on Takao’s bed, hands fidgeting at her side and teeth nibbling on her lower lip in an unconscious move. Her entire being radiated tension and distress, but Kuroko found himself at a loss as to how to sooth her worries. He shared them the same as her and there was no calming his racing thoughts either.

“Tetsu-kun, what’s wrong with Dai-chan? Mukkun said something, that it’s more than him just being disheartened by his powers, that something else is happening.”

“I’m not entirely sure, Momoi-san,” Kuroko sighed. “There is some dark magic at play here, toying with them, but for what reasons I cannot say.”

“Can you do something about it? The others, they’re all too busy either hating them or praising them. They can’t see how everything has gone wrong.”

“I’m trying, Momoi-san. I want them back as well.”

**5**

“Are you sure about this, Taiga?” His father’s warm hand settled on his shoulders, a reassuring move as much as a grounding one. They both felt raw, exposed, untethered, caught in the drift that was his mother’s death. They danced and paced around each other, not knowing how to act normal, how not to succumb to the sorrow twisting in both their souls. That was why he had to put distance between himself and his father, to allow both of them to heal. Teiko would help him with that and from the looks of it, his brother might very well require his aid as well.

“I’m sure. Being here, surrounded by … everything. It’s too much,” her presence lingered in every nook and cranny. Her floral smell still drifted in the music room, her laughter still echoed in the library. He needed the distance. “Aniki said he’d come to pick me up. He and Murasakibara apparently got into a fight of sorts.”

It was worse than just that if his brother’s letter was to be believed. It was something dark and sinister coiling around the halls of Teiko and even Kagami wondered at the sanity of going to a viper pit willingly. But, his brother needed his help and his father needed not to be constantly reminded of the woman they had both lost.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. Those two had always been closer than close. I would call them soulmates if I believed in such gibberish.”

“Yeah…” Kagami drifted off, his thoughts turning back to the letter he had received. What in the gods’ names could be happening at Teiko if his skills with guardian magic were so desperately required?

* * *

 

**In the uncertain present**

The howls rang late in the night that day, chilling the blood in Kuroko’s veins as he made his way past the stillness of the gardens, towards the Sepulcher once more. With each step he made, the cries of the wolves rang closer and closer, loud in the dead stillness of the gardens. They could not yet pass the threshold, not without forsaking the form the curse had given them and becoming nothing more than formless spirits. But, soon, Kuroko knew, as the curse weakened, the barriers would start blurring. And then, the threat looming in the gardens would be more than just Haizaki and his thorned vines.

_‘Remember; that which thrives in the dark cannot touch you in the light, but the opposite does not always hold true.’_

What danger lingered in the light that could cast its shadow in the darkness as well? Was it the wolves, the beasts given shape by the malice wrapped tightly in the core of the curse, or was it something else, another enemy lurking unseen?

_‘Beware little magician, there are monsters hiding in the darkness. And all are out for your blood.’_

This, he already knew. Haizaki’s threat had been echoed by Akashi in the first days, and though the notes had told him not to trust in the Emperor’s words, there was more lurking beyond his shadows and the oppressive feel of the magic wrapped around the castle.

At his side, Nigou growled, the thrumming sound in his throat almost drowned by the fury of the wolves. Pale fingers buried themselves in the ghost hound’s fur, a shushing sound calming him down even as Kuroko’s gaze darted left and right, assessing the darkness for any potential dangers. Before, Haizaki’s attacks had always come as a surprise. Now, he wished to be prepared.

It did not take more than a few steps; the whooshing sound came, cutting through the silence of the gardens and Kuroko leaped sideways, Nigou baring his teeth at his side, a vicious growl building low in his throat.

“Well, well, the little magician has grown fangs,” the voice spoke from the shadows, and it was familiar, yet not, a darkness coiled tightly around each word, distorting them. It sounded like Haizaki, but still not, a dissonance that made no sense and with trepidation in his soul Kuroko wondered just how far their enemy had perverted the magicks at his disposal. “I am not so weak as Death to be thwarted by you, little one.”

The voice stepped out of the darkness and Kuroko forced his body still, even as shock broke through the emotionless façade on his face. It was Haizaki, yet not; black hair where once was grey-white, red shimmering in a cruel gaze, a fanged grin breaking on features that seemed formed of bad patchwork. His entire being seemed made of mismatched patches, skin interwoven with metal and ceramic, a mockery of a human bearing a fractured soul. A small dagger was embedded in the spot where Kuroko had once stood and six more lay hooked to Haizaki’s belt. [1]

“My master is most amused with your struggles. We have made a bet the three of us you see; I claim that you will find your end under my knives before you can break the curse. Death claims his vines will steal the breath from your very lungs. And Master claims we are fools the both of us and only he shall be able to end you. Should we put his belief to the test?”

He took a step forth, another dagger unhooked from his belt, blade dancing wildly between his fingers. The cruel grin on his face became even wider as Kuroko held his ground, determination stark on his features. Beneath the boy’s feet darkness swarmed, a group of shadows dancing restlessly beyond their master’s reach.

“It is not just the curse that weakens as I advance, Haizaki-kun,” Kuroko stated, deliberately using the name neither incarnation remembered. His enemy snarled in rage, the name echoing inside his being, making him stagger as the piece of soul remembered what the mind did not. “It is also your master’s hold upon my powers.”

A hand was raised, the shadows from the ground bursting in form of a lance, barreling in Haizaki’s direction. The other jumped back, dagger raised to fend off the onslaught, but faring poorly as the shadows burst apart and swarmed around him. Nigou barked from behind, fangs bared as he advanced towards the enemy and Haizaki cursed, hatred stark on his features before he disappeared from sight.

Behind Kuroko bent over in pain, a trickle of blood staining his lips red as he coughed, the use of his powers too much on his already abused body. Nigou bounded back, a sad whine echoing as he nudged his master with his nose.

“I’m fine,” Kuroko smiled, petting the dog and nudging him forward. “Come, let us move. We don’t have time to lose.”

* * *

 

It was no longer surprising to see Kagami standing inside the Sepulcher, a careless grin on his face as he chatted with the newly animated portrait that hid Kise’s dreamscape. The blonde-haired boy seemed less sorrowful than last time, a smile on his face as the painting moved and punctuated each word with movement. With the curse broken, Kise could use his magic to animate the portrait, even though he could not yet pass its threshold, not until all locks were broken.

“Kurokocchi!” Kise cried in delight, eyes alight with joy as Kuroko trudged past the threshold of the Sepulcher, Nigou as this side.

“Hello, Kise-kun,” Kuroko returned genially.

“You should hurry. Enter the portrait before the stars stop glimmering, otherwise the curse will retaliate. Midorimacchi shouldn’t be too hard to handle. Aominecchi will probably pose more problems.”

“As usual,” Kagami snorted unrepentantly, before a jab in his ribs made him double over and glare at Kuroko.

“Kise-kun, whose magic is it that protects the children from entering the forest?” Kuroko asked, the question one which he wished to have an answer to.

“It’s not just one person, Kurokocchi. One of them always had a soft spot for wayward kids, no matter how brattish they may have acted. Another mothered us all even though there were precious little thanks we ever offered that person. Now go, enough questions for today. You have a mission to complete and a curse to break.”

With those words Kise’s portrait stilled, the colors swirling on the canvas turning static, frozen in an encouraging smile. Turning to the right, Kuroko and Kagami passed the already unlocked portrait and moved to the second one, Temperance. The colors on it swirled under Kuroko’s touch, a hurricane of light and dark shifting maddeningly and beckoning them inside.

They did not hesitate and stepped forth.

* * *

 

“What is this place? It looks like a soothsayer’s wet dream,” Kagami grumped as he passed through the beaded curtain that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere in his path. The smell of incense drifted in the air, a bitter-sweet smell that had often clung to Midorima’s own robes during their time at Teiko.

“Kagami-kun, please refrain from being crass,” Kuroko requested deadpan. “That is Aomine-kun’s job.”

Though, loath as he was to admit, Kagami was right. The place they found themselves in appeared as an oversized tent cramped to the brim with various items meant for future telling. Crystal globes were arranged haphazardly in a corner, close to a round oak table that held another such item, in pristine condition. Tarot cards stood scattered on the ground, mismatched, belonging to different decks. A black cat darted to and fro, the scent of tea mingled with that of the sweet spice being burned. It was a clutter, unlike anything Midorima would have been expected to like, devoid of any orderly fashion. Just a mismatched disaster where one wrong touch could bring everything to the ground. And yet…

“This tent belongs to the fortune teller in Midorima-kun’s town,” Kuroko explained as he made his way past a tome of tarot reading that stood on a chair, with its spine bent. “The owner is the one that taught Midorima-kun about horoscopes and lucky items.”

“More’s the pity. Some of those monstrosities,” Kagami shuddered, before an inquiring look settled itself on its features. “How do you know all this? Kise’s garden, Midorima’s fortune telling friend? How can you recognize them?”

“Perhaps if Kagami-kun had been less obsessed with challenging Aomine-kun at every turn and more interested in the rest of the comings and goings at Teiko, he too would have known,” Kuroko quipped, though in truth it was not only his friend’s past stories that were providing him with answers. It was also his own magic that spoke of the past, the shadows lurking in the corner of these places that shed light into them.

“Who are you?” The voice coming from the shadows of the tent was startling, but not surprising. A young, childish voice belonging to a boy with verdant hair and equally green eyes that stepped into the light with suspicion and more than just the barest hint of curiosity lingering in his gaze. “You should not be here.”

A stark difference from Kise’s howling, scared young self, Midorima appeared cautious, but unafraid, assured though he had nothing to fall back on. However, the wear of the curse was clear on the youthful body, on the tatters that made his garments and the scratches crisscrossing his arms and bare feet.

“Why should we not be here Midorima-kun?”

“Who is Midorima?” the child inquired, a small hand moving to push upwards the spectacles over his eyes. “I am Temperance, meant to wait here patiently until the end of time[2]. The man who sealed me here told me no one was ever to enter and if they were, I should fight them off.”

“Do you wish to fight us off?” Kuroko inquired unaffected.

“It would be foolish. I sense you are a great deal stronger than me and I do not trust that man enough to follow his words. However, neither will I help you. I hope you are not a couple of fools to have wandered in here without reason, just to remain stuck,” the child concluded, arms crossing over his chest before he scowled at them and disappeared.

“Has he always been like this?” Kagami asked, dismayed, hands flapping comically in the direction of the child.

“It appears so.”

As soon as the child disappeared, fire burst in the tent, a roaring inferno that spread beneath their feet, consuming everything in its path. The smell of incense was replaced with that of smoke, thick and chocking, ash drifting in the air as parchments and tomes were consumed by the flames. Yet another illusion, as unreal as the one dominating Kise’s dreamscape and yet still so vivid, an echo of a past long lost.

“I had wondered when it would change,” Kuroko mused, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the flames.

“What is it we should be on the lookout this time,” Kagami asked as his magic moved to form a protective shield around the two of them, keeping the smoke and the fire at bay until it flicked back. “Lucky items?”

“Perhaps.”

It did not take them long to find it; stuck amid a roaring inferno, yet untouched by the fire, the small, glass ballerina appeared much too delicate to lay amidst the debris of the tent even if the image were to change back to its former self. Its dress was spun of gold thread and blue glass, hewn rubies creating cascading locks of hair. The ballerina was en pointe, hands moved together to clasp in a prayer, emerald green eyes turning to the very Heavens.

“The flames will reach her one day,” a childish voice came from behind them and the two turned to see Midorima, resigned and yearning, gazing at the ballerina with longing. “Before they kept far, far from her. Now, they are getting closer each time they appear.”

“Why not move her when the fire dies down?” Kagami asked.

“He said I must not. Said that I would die if she moved even an inch.” The child’s head tilted to a side, gaze still glued to the glass figurine. “What is she?”

“She is a lucky item,” Kuroko said softly, reaching closer to the ballerina, still enclosed in the shield Kagami had conjured. “An object made specially to protect someone.” His gaze turned to catch Midorima’s, blue arresting green, and he added, hand stretched in a beckoning gesture, to bring the child under the protective spell. “She is yours. He is a liar; no harm shall befall you if you claim her once more.”

Midorima approached cautiously, small fingers closing around larger ones, allowing himself to be drawn under the shield. His eyes widened in awe, the ballerina capturing his attention and he moved forth out of his own accord, arrested, the other hand wrapping around the glass before he even had the chance to catch himself.

“She feels… safe,” the boy whispered, hesitating before pulling her from her place.

“She is,” Kuroko encouraged and stepped back.

Wind started picking up power around Midorima, building up faster and faster until the child was caught in a roaring hurricane crackling with green energy, the wounds on his body soothed away as his fingers burst with raw power. The force made the glass ballerina crack and splinter into thousands of pieces, the colored mosaic interweaving with the burst of magic. A plaintive cry rang in the air, tears streaming down pale cheeks and just like that, the memories rushed over him.

* * *

 

_The woman lies in bed, pale and exhausted, a cascade of green hair framing her with a verdant halo. Her eyes are glassy, the barest hint of fever still residing in her body, but a smile breaks through her exhaustion, pride brimming in hazel gaze as she beholds the babe cradled in the wet-nurse’s arms. It had been touch and go for both of them, but for her the weakness had lingered for days more. She has yet to be able to hold her babe for more than the briefest of moments, to cradle him and sooth his cries. Soon though…_

_In the doorway, a man shuffles awkwardly, wishing to enter and yet not daring. His eyes are trained on the woman in the bed, on the child’s soft form, and he is thankful, fiercely so, that the gods heard his pleas and allowed this miracle, granted them both the power to survive._

_“Come now, dear,” the woman calls from her sickbed, her smile heartbreakingly fond. “No need to stand in the doorway like a stranger.”_

* * *

 

_“Shintarou,” his mother interrupts his attempt, a chiding tilt to her voice as the winds lower him back to the ground. He had been hovering just a few inches in the air, not too much, but he had finally been able to do it even though his tutor had said he could not._

_“Mother, I did it,” he bounds to her, all restless energy and the excitement of a three-year-old. His mother’s eyes crinkle with delight although her lips remained pursed in disapproval and he prepares himself for a scolding before his father appears from behind, a large hand ruffling his hair._

_“Well-done son!” they both say and the boy feels warm, all to his bones, warm and so very proud. He will work more and more, become better and better, if it means seeing that expression on his parents’ faces._

* * *

 

_“Hi! I’m Takao Kazunari. Ma said I’ll be studying with you from now on.”_

_He is five years old and brims with more power than any child his age should, he knows more spells than the other children he interacts with and he does not want this boy in his house with his wide grin and silver-blue eyes, with mischief on his features. He turns around, stalks off into the gardens, unwilling to allow the other even the smallest of chances._

_It continues for weeks. Takao pushes and he pulls back; during lessons they have to interact, but in the space between, in breaks or just before the raven-haired boy returns to his house, the child pulls back again and again, resentful and unwilling to allow the other the closeness he desires._

_When Takao follows him up the hill, his anger finally boils over, hands trusting forward, the winds at his disposal pushing the other down the cliff. The boy rolls down, catches twigs and rocks in his descent and when he reaches the end of the slope for a moment he is so still, so utterly still that Midorima fears for the worst. It is seconds later that Takao struggles to his feet, face and hand scratched raw, pale skin already blooming with bruises. Fat tears roll down his cheeks, breath caught with every hitch as sobs wreak his body and the green haired child rushes down, guilty and so deeply ashamed, small hands running everywhere along the other child’s body._

_‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Stop crying, Takao please. Teacher will skin me alive if he sees you. Stop, I’ll do anything ok? You can study with me and I promise I will never use magic against you. Never!’_

_It is minutes until the other finally stops crying, until the sobs die down to small hiccups and then to complete silence, his tired and battered body falling on the green haired child’s lap in complete exhaustion._

_‘Promise, Shin-chan?’ Takao mutters before falling asleep, hands fisting in the other boy’s robes, the words plaintive and almost unbelieving._

_‘I promise. Never again!’_

* * *

 

_He finds the tent during one of their visits to the local villages, glimpses it from afar, large and colorful, a mismatch of patterns and fabrics making it stand out. His mother allows him to explore it with an indulgent smile, Takao hot on his heels, and the two of them make their way inside, brimming with curiosity._

_“Ah a Cancer. And a Scorpio. Quite the auspicious match,” the owner says gazing at them over round spectacles. Years later the boy would wonder how he had known, but right then, the tent seemed like a gateway to another world. “Did you come here to get your lucky items?”_

_It is there he learns about lucky items and horoscopes, about doing all in his power even if it means appeasing fate. The fortune-teller always welcomes him with a smile and a cup of tea, wrinkly hands pouring over tarot cards and parchments, reading him the future for the day or the week. There are many lucky items he buys from the man, trinkets and baubles, but the first one remains special, a ballerina with red locks and a dress spun of silver-blue._

* * *

 

_Teiko is beautiful and grandiose, just as spectacular as his parents made it out to be. Takao makes a fool out of himself at his side, as it’s expected, but even his friend’s antics cannot deter him from the wide-eyed wonder that follows him at each step for weeks. He becomes an Archmage – as he desires – the powers at his disposal blooming and settling down, giving him the accuracy he always wanted. He meets the others and although they grate on his nerves in the very beginning, he remembers his meeting with Takao and tries to learn from it._

_“I had expected some form of retaliation on your part for Kise’s stunt,” Akashi points out serenely, his attention offered to the chess board between them. He already has Midorima in check and the green haired boy wonders how to proceed even as he answers._

_“I do believe nothing I could come up with could rival the scolding Kise received from his senpai. Although, he might find it astonishing to realize all his notes have magically been translated to one of those dead, ancient tongues he hates so much.”_

_Fingers move to arrange the spectacles over his nose, a self-satisfied grin bursting on the green haired boy’s features as he moves his Rook._

* * *

 

_They win their first Arcane Tournament and the victory should evoke joy and pride. But there is something lingering on, a dark feeling at the back of his mind that follows him no matter where he goes, be it with his friends or sequestrated in the library with Takao._

_‘There is something malevolent,’ Kuroko tells Aomine and he does not understand the meaning behind those words before it becomes too late._

* * *

 

The winds drew to a halt, their maddening dash stopping to reveal an older, Midorima, just a little older than Kise had been once the first part of his memories had returned. Apprehension bloomed in the green gaze, confusion and just the barest hint of fear, before the ground started rumbling and the scenery changed.

Darkness washed over the tent, obscuring everything from sight and later, once light returned, the clutter of the tent became replaced with the sprawling library of Teiko. Midorima, like Kise had been, was nowhere to be seen.

 

* * *

 

[1] Seven of Swords ( minor arcana ): sneaky behavior, deceit, betrayal.

[2] Temperance means balance, moderation, patience, purpose.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was perhaps fitting that the dreamscape would shift to the spots in Teiko dearest to each of them, the place where each had held their last stand. Whereas Kise’s prison had led to the gardens of the Academy, to their sprawling grounds and their decaying beauty, Midorima’s had given way to the libraries, to the spiraling shelves that held thousands of years of magical knowledge, the light of the candles casting dancing shadows upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Popping here with a small note that I changed Murasakibara's tarot card from The Tower to The Devil. So far, the meanings I have chosen for my tarot cards have been mostly from the Rider Waite Tarot Deck, but in this case I turned to the Thoth Deck because it was more fitting. The Devil here signifies "independence, freedom, loneliness, being misunderstood and an outcast." Thank you very much once more for all your support! ^_^

_“There are limits to the arcane even nowadays, boundaries our magic cannot cross. Immortality remains out of our reach. Life cannot be conceived through spells or potions. Death remains the absolute threshold, the point of no return. Even though many have tried finding ways around these barriers, all they have managed to achieve was utter failure, often accompanied by a heavy price being ripped from them. Perhaps, bringing the dead back to life has caused the most casualties in the bid to overturn the very laws of nature._

_It is easy to believe that once a soul passes the border, it can be called back. Of course, necromancy and other magical arts animate corpses, summon ghosts to a master’s side or deal with the world of the dead. However, that is not true resurrection; that is merely a simulacrum of dominion over the other side. The balance has often been disturbed to the point that the world had been in peril. It is only thanks to an obscure order that our world still stands, a group of mages often believed to be mere myths. Shadows masters some call them, rulers over the world of the dead, the ones to whom the spirits of those long lost still answers. Ferrymen of the dead, the shamans name them with reverent tones, those few entrusted with the secrets of the underworld, the ones who can calm the restless souls and lead them to the other side, who keep in check the power of the spirit still residing in our world._

_Dangerous, I call them, elusive and powerful, unknown and unseen. The tales linked to their existence are bathed in war and death, their appearance as hard to understand as their disappearance centuries ago. It remains unknown whether any of the mages belonging to this mysterious order still live, if their power still controls the balance of the world. What is known is this: long ago, before our world became shaped as we know it, a renegade of this order brought death and ruin in his bid for power, brought humanity to its very knees. His name remains unknown, but a title is whispered still: The Shadow Weaver.”_ ( Rumors of the damned by Mage Harasawa )

* * *

 

**_In the long-forgotten past – Year four, first half_ **

Kagami had expected his first view of Teiko to be one of awe; it was rumored to be a place of beauty after all, with its spiraling towers and endless gardens. However, everything was ripe with a sense of wrong, an undercurrent of anger and distrust that shone in the eyes of most of the students around him. They darted glances at each other, their mouths set in rigid lines and their gazes brimming with darkness.

“Keep away from the archmages,” the girl offering him the tour said, blue eyes blazing unnaturally as she spoke. Tatsuya had been unable to be his guide, caught in some training of sorts, leaving him alone with the hard faced Second Year. “They’re bad news, they and that pet of theirs.”

“Why,” he asked. His magic bubbled under his skin, wishing to be allowed free, but he reigned it for the moment. “What can be so wrong about kids a few years older than you.”

“They’re strong, unnaturally so. Everyone says! They won three tournaments in a row. No one’s done it before.”

“That’s your problem? It’s a good thing. Means things aren’t going to get boring.”

“What?” The girl snapped, eyes going wide as Kagami grinned with gleeful anticipation.

“The stronger the opponent, the better the challenge. Why on earth would I want to duel someone who’s weak?” This time he allowed his magic to flare for the briefest of moments, a golden blaze washing over the girl and she blinked, uncertain, the darkness in her eyes dimming.

So that was what Tatsuya had been talking about.

**2.**

“Trouble in paradise?” he griped good naturally, a smirk on his features as he leaned against the hardboard of the narrow bed. Despite all odds, he had been assigned to Tatsuya’s dorm, Murasakibara having apparently demanded a change some months back.

“Taiga, don’t be an ass,” Himuro rolled his eyes, aiming a half-hearted kick at his brother.

“No, but really. I might not like the guy, but I’ve never doubted the friendship or the closeness you two shared. What happened?”

Himuro gazed at his brother in surprise, proud to see how quick he had been to set aside the joke and adopt a serious mien. Kagami had grown and with a pang, the raven haired boy understood he had not been there to see it.

“He severed our bond to protect me. There is dark magic at play here, an enemy that walks unseen, but I am not the one you should ask about such matters. Come, there is someone you must meet.”

**3.**

Kuroko was small, unassuming and made him shriek like a girl when he appeared from absolutely nowhere, making Tatsuya break into peals of laughter. The shadows under his feet shuffled anxiously, clung to their master in protection and the brown-haired boy at his side glared at Kagami, as if he had wronged him somehow.

Later, as he heard the entire story, as he put a name to the wrongness he had felt and understood more of what was going on at Teiko, Kagami discovered he could fault neither for their reaction. But in that moment, when their hands came together in a handshake, the burst of power that surged from their hands was expected by neither. His magic flared, a warm, red glow twining in ropes around their wrist as a similarly black cord erupted from Kuroko’s fingers.

“A guardianship bond,” Kuroko breathed in surprise, blue eyes wide with wonder as the ropes met and entwined before sinking back in their skin, a perfect blend of red and black. “I didn’t think…”

Kagami hadn’t either; had never dared to hope to forge such a bond, not when he remembered his mother’s story, her tales of a bond that had been there once, but no longer existed, cut without remorse by the one with whom she had forged it. Not when he remembered the shadows hunting her eyes when he had asked if the one she should have been protecting was dead, the guilt in her words as she whispered, ‘if only the gods had been so merciful.’

“Well,” he grinned as he beheld Kuroko. “This is getting more and more interesting.” He could hardly sit still, his body quivering with anticipation. First, worthy opponents that he could duel with in the upcoming inner tournaments. Second, a guardianship bond that would allow his powers to evolve as they were meant to.

“I look forward to working with you, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko said pleasantly, but there was a world of unsaid things lingering in between, a swirl of emotions unuttered that hung palpably in the air.

**4.**

Kagami was not quite expecting a mock duel during his second day at Teiko. However, words spread fast in the academy and it did not take long for the blonde haired archmage to come disturb his breakfast, screeching to all and sundry that he had stolen Kuroko and he’d better give him back. There was something wrong in the blonde’s golden gaze, something twisted and dangerous; Kagami would have realized it without Kuroko’s story, but now, put into context he could finally see it for what it was. Mind magic, foul forbidden magic that should never had been wielded.

“Duel me,” he replied casually, seemingly more interested in the meal he was having than the fake whining of the archmage his side. “Duel me and Kuroko. You can choose any second you like. And if we win, you stop your incessant nattering.”

Kise’s eyes blazed with anger, electricity bursting front his fingers, scorching the table mere inches from Kagami’s hands.

“I don’t need a second. I’ll duel you and Kurokocchi; when I win, you’ll give him back and leave this place.”

They won; it was a near thing, but it happened nonetheless, Kagami’s guardian magic flaring in response to the movement of Kuroko’s shadows, the two bits of the arcane mingling and chasing the darkness from Kise’s soul.

“Kurokocchi… what?” Kise looked lost, a man waking up after a long nightmare and it did not take more than mere seconds for Kuroko’s stoic mask to break and rush to his friend’s side, explaining all that had transpired.

**5.**

“I can’t really explain, Kurokocchi,” Kise said in a low voice, desperation building up. It wasn’t fake, not as before, and Kagami wondered whether he had any right to listen into that conversation. “It’s like looking through a window and finding it impossible to break through. I saw everything, I remember everything. Every little hurt I dealt. But I can’t remember who was behind the curse.”

“Kise-kun, it wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was, wasn’t it? I was too weak to resist the curse and instead I hurt everyone. The other kids, you, senpai. And no one but you noticed.” There was a world of hurt there, resentment bubbling just below the surface and Kagami wondered briefly who was the senpai Kise was talking about.

“They couldn’t have. I received training to notice such magic, they did not. They thought it was just hubris.”

“But I changed,” Kise hissed, fury in his voice. “We all changed, every single one of us. It should have been clear there was something wrong.” He stopped for a moment, trying to calm his racing words, before his attention grasped the other bit of information the blue haired boy had offered. “What training is it, Kurokocchi? What are you truly? You know more than us, more than any tutor could have told you. History and lore that not even Akashicchi had access to.”

“I will tell you. But I need to tell all of you, once everything is over,” Kuroko sighed. “There’s been too many secrets already. Please have a little patience, Kise-kun.”

* * *

 

**_In the uncertain present_ **

It was perhaps fitting that the dreamscape would shift to the spots in Teiko dearest to each of them, the place where each had held their last stand. Whereas Kise’s prison had led to the gardens of the Academy, to their sprawling grounds and their decaying beauty, Midorima’s had given way to the libraries, to the spiraling shelves that held thousands of years of magical knowledge, the light of the candles casting dancing shadows upon them. A quill still stood dripping ink on a table, a mark pressing its metal edge in one of the older tomes on a cushioned chair. The feeling of serene quiet, of blissful solitude permeated through the spiraling rooms.

It did not last; such as it had happened in Kise’s case, mere seconds after they had made their first steps around the new dreamscape, the scenery had shifted, the flames of before bursting out of the ground, devouring the tomes with a satisfied sort of vindication. Bits of paper and ash drifted in the air, bouncing on the shield that Kagami had erected. Once more Kuroko found himself hit with the remembrance of their defeat, with the memory of the utter devastation that had occurred.

“Was it truly so? Was the destruction we incurred so thorough?” Kuroko mused out loud, gaze seeking Kagami’s in an unconscious request for reassurance. Part of the memories of that last day were hazy, blurred by the specter of Death and the aftereffects of the attacks that had targeted them all.

“I don’t remember,” Kagami sighed, a hand moving through his hair in a nervous manner. “The curse, it affects us as well, Shige and I. It kept us bound until you found the tomb and warps our memories of that last day. I remember your death, Shige’s despair, all of our rage.” He stops, eyes looking around the room they found themselves in, but not truly seeing it. “Shige knows more I think, about that day. Comes with him being your apprentice and well on his way to becoming a Master. But he won’t tell me what he knows or suspects. Reckon the time’s not quite right yet.”

“I see,” Kuroko nodded, neatly sidestepping a shelf that had come cascading down in a flurry of burned wood and paper.

At their feet, a puddle of blood stretched over the wooden floor, the only remnant of what must have been one of the many victims of the battle. None of their bodies remained, none of the broken bones and charred husks that had littered the entirety of the battlefield. Still, echoes of their presence lingered, in the whirlwind coming tearing through the inferno in the library, in the wave of water dousing the flaming books. A potion lay toppled to the side, an alchemist’s last hope. The scent of chamomile and lavender still lingered despite the choking smoke, betraying the presence of a healer that must have met their last beneath the burning walls.

“There he is,” Kagami pointed to a figure hunched into itself in one of the corners, a flickering shield of wind keeping the flames at bay. His eyes stood riveted on a small item lying at his feet, yet his hands remained clenched into fists at his side, not daring to move them nor reach for the object.

“Kuroko,” Midorima raised his eyes to the pair, ignoring Kagami completely in favor of channeling his attention towards the blue haired boy. “What happened here? What am I forgetting?” The fear in his voice was tangible, raw, something Kuroko had never before heard in the tone of his stoic friend, not even when they had been preparing for the final battle. Not even when Takao had left; even then a flicker of hope had lingered, though there was none to be found now.

“I am sorry Midorima-kun. You must remember by yourself.” Midorima nodded, attention turning once more to the item on the ground. Now that they were closer, they could see the item was yet another glass spun figurine, a crumbling tower, stricken by gold wire lightning and at its side, a knight with a lance of silver in its hand, watching the destruction with grey-blue eyes. [1] With care, an almost reverent gesture, the boy picked up the figurine, cradled it to his chest as winds burst from the ground and engulfed him whole; his green eyes blazed emerald with power and a ragged scream was torn from his throat as the memories rush over him.

* * *

 

  _He does not understand that something is wrong until they win their second Tournament. The danger they are in eludes them all except perhaps Murasakibara who feels the wrongness coiling around his being, who pushes Himuro away to keep him safe._

_( It will forever vex Midorima that he had not had the same foresight, that he had not felt the wrongness of the red haze settling over his vision, of the anger boiling in his veins and the disdain wrapping around his words every time he was in Takao’s presence. Had he been smarter, more observant, he would not have hurt one he held dear. )_

_The power burns in his veins, bubbles under his skin, so easy to access, powerful and perfectly controlled. It pleases him, more than it should, reminds him that he needs no one else, that his skills are at such a level that he can rely solely on himself. The teachers are proud, words of praise falling from their lips like diamonds, his grades are second only to Akashi and it is so easy to allow himself to be lulled by this intoxicating power, to succumb to its deadly embrace until he can pay attention to nothing else._

_The hurt in Takao’s gaze, the tears, the anger, sometimes wake him up at night, make him break into cold sweats, his heart hammering in his chest screaming **wrong, wrong, wrong, all of this is wrong,** but logic is quick to take over, reminding him that it is folly to cry over spilled milk, that what is done is done and there is no reason mourning a connection never meant to be. _

_( **Wrong,** his soul cries, but he is powerless in the grasp of the dark spell, unable to pay any attention to it. **Wrong,** his heart screams whenever his gaze locks with that of a silver-blue eyed boy, whenever he sees the despair brimming in usually jovial eyes, whenever he remembers a sob hitching over two simple words – ‘You promised’. **Wrong,** but he silences those thoughts without a single regret.)_

_His mother sends letters to him, gentle and confused, requests to know more of his life, of Teiko, of why he had chosen to sever the links he had with his childhood friend. His answers are polite, but short, lies whispered in his ears by the darkness building in his very being. Takao’s mother writes as well and her simple words cut through the fog in his mind, if only for a little while._

_‘I will always consider you a son as well, no matter what happens. Please take care of yourself Shintarou-kun!’_

_The shame that flushes his cheeks is unexpected as are the tears streaming down his cheeks without stop. He wants to apologize to her – he doesn’t. He wants to beg Takao for his forgiveness – he can’t. In the end, all he does is crumple the letter and hide it in a drawer, unable to find it in himself to destroy it._

_Kagami finally breaks through, the power he wields with the same finesse as a sledgehammer surprisingly cutting through the darkness coiled in his soul with the ease of a scalpel. The shadows in his mind disperse, the veil of anger finally lifting and all Midorima can do is gaze in astonishment at Kuroko – so strong, the strongest of them all – and Kagami – an oaf and a fool, but someone to be respected -, the words of thank you falling from his lips inadequate in face of all they had done._

_Guardian magic, Kuroko will later explain when all of them had come to themselves, a light so brilliant that it can disperse even the darkest of magic._

_However, for the moment, it is a different type of anger that washes over him, a cold, vengeful feeling that wishes to deal destruction to those that had played him, played them all like silly puppets on strings. The ones that had made them hurt the ones who had ever been closest to them. And he promises he will, even though lately he had not been great at keeping his promises._

* * *

 

_He seeks Takao out as soon as he comes back to himself. Part of him is desperately afraid that the other boy won’t even talk to him, even though Takao had never been one to be petty, but the fear is there, tangible and chocking, even as he knocks at his friend’s dorm, even as the door closes and he is invited inside._

_“Takao, I…” the words die in his throat as he sees how wretched Takao truly looks, as he spots the dark circles under his eyes and the sheer sadness in his gaze. He keeps his arms crossed around himself, an embrace of sorts, a gesture that used to bring him comfort as a child and Midorima hates himself even more for being the one who had caused all this._

_“I’m sorry. I was a fool and I let myself get ensnared by those whispers and I hurt you even though I promised I would not.” The words are rushed, frantic, as if he desires to get everything off his chest before Takao boots him out the door. And if the deepening frown marring Takao’s features, the darkness building in his eyes, is any indication that may very well happen sooner than later._

_“You’re sorry,” Takao laughs, a bitter, deprecating sound that sends daggers in Midorima’s soul. “Funny way of showing that, Shin-chan. You know what with the whole yelling at me, throwing me in a bookshelf,” he hisses the last words, eyes blazing with more fury than Midorima had ever seen, “telling me to stay away from you, ignoring me for months.”_

_He vibrates on the spot, anger building up in his very being and for a breath stopping moment Midorima wonders if perhaps the spell had targeted more than just him and the other archmages. But it doesn’t matter, if this anger is all Takao’s or if it’s fabricated, because it’s deserved, well and truly deserved. The green haired boy, doesn’t think, merely acts by instinct. His arms close around the other, a vice grip that is as gentle as it is strong. He brings him close, close, close, as if wishing he could never let go and Takao rages against him, struggles to escape, clenches and unclenches his hands in Midorima’s robes. Tears stream down both their cheeks, sorrow building up to a breaking point._

_“You liar… liar… liar…” Takao whispers through broken sobs, hands no longer pushing the other away, but rather trying to pull him closer, to keep him rooted in place. “I want to hate you. I wanted to hate you so bad. You left me behind, Shin-chan.” And it hurt, even though he had known something like this would ultimately happen._

_“I know,” Midorima says, bringing one hand up to gently tangle in Takao’s hair, fingers winding in smooth caresses. ”I’m sorry.”_

_“That’s not good enough,” Takao replies, voice muffled as he hides his head in Midorima’s shirt. “You need to make it up to me.”_

_“I will. I swear, whatever it takes.”_

_( Later, when their tears have dried on their cheeks and discussions have been had, when more apologies have been dealt and forgiveness has been offered, they fall asleep on Takao’s narrow bed as they had often done as children, the raven-haired boy unceremoniously slumped across Midorima, his fingers tangled in those of the other boy, his cheek pressing in the crook of his friend’s neck. Later, as they sleep, a glass spun figure would watch over them in silence, a knight standing next to a crumbling tower, the lucky item for Scorpio. Even later, Ogiwara would enter the room and stop in his tracks, a bright smile stretching against his features when he sees the two slumbering boys. )_

_But for now, they are loath to part from each other, even for seconds, the dark magic in Midorima’s soul fully dispersing as fervent promises are whispered between one another._

* * *

 

_They can’t pinpoint exactly when things change; there has always been this unspoken thing between the two of them, the attraction of two bodies orbiting around one another, but it had never bubbled past a point. Not until they found the one behind the dark spell being woven at Teiko, the culprit which his wicked, proud smile and hands slung carelessly in the pockets of his robes as if what he had done was not an abomination beyond the very rules of magic._

_Kuroko brims with fury, a sight unheard of till then, the shadow form of a hound snarling at his side. ( Midorima had not been there when Kuroko had found Nigou’s slashed body, but the boy’s grief had been palpable for days after )._

_However, it is not him that hurls himself towards their enemy; they all wish to do so, but the Headmaster’s words keep them in check. Takao has no such compulsions; spells are thrown after their enemy’s retreating form, fire and ice and stone succeeding one another faster than the blink of an eye, the target snarling in rage as he fights off the assault. In the end, the enemy flees unharmed and Takao slumps at his side, energy half spent in the rage of the attack, silver-blue eyes brimming with a hatred so palpable that Midorima wants to cleanse it from his soul._

_“He hurt you,” Takao whispers later through clenched teeth, body leaning against the hardboard of Midorima’s bed._

_“He hurt you, not me,” the green haired boy counters, the same rage and hatred mirrored in his own eyes and suddenly he steps forward, grabs the collar of Takao’s robe and pulls. The kiss is awkward and clumsy, the angle all wrong and both of them clueless as to what they are doing, but the rage of before morphs into passionate enthusiasm, before disappearing altogether as their desperation stills._

_“Shin-chan,” Takao whispers, eyes brimming with a myriad of emotions as they break apart to breathe._

_“Never again. I will not let anyone hurt you ever again.”_

_It is a promise impossible to keep and he a fool for uttering it. He does it nonetheless._

* * *

 

_He agrees with Akashi’s plan of creating a spirit bond, though he has little desire to let the others so close. But the danger is still there, lingers at the fringes of their academy and he cannot let himself be caught unaware as he had in the past._

_“We still do not know who it is we are fighting against. Any option that might give us an advantage is not to scoff at, even if it’s something as complex as a spirit bond,” his words echo almost unbidden, and later as he shares this decision with Takao, he expects his lover to frown at his choice. The animosity still lingering between the raven-haired boy and Akashi is notorious. The archmage’s treatment of Ogiwara, as well as the complicated relationship being woven between their red-haired leader and Kuroko make Takao grind his teeth on the best of days._

_“Tet-chan already told me about it,” Takao sighs, wraps his arms around Midorima and holds him tight. “I can’t say I am happy with this, but it’s the only choice we have, isn’t it? I’m not gonna allow that bastard power over you just because Akashi is on my shit list. I just wish…”_

_He does not say what he wishes, merely clings tighter. Midorima does not have the heart to ask._

* * *

 

_The Headmaster dies and it is clear they are no longer safe. The war stretches across the land, claiming victims by the hundreds, their enemy’s army amassing as it gets closer and closer to Teiko. Their towns, all of them lie between the enemy and its quarry. Neither is foolish enough to believe they will be spared._

_Kasamatsu leaves first and in his wake a feeling of foreboding remains, the tendrils of dread creeping in each of their souls. And after him, the others prepare to follow._

_“It’s a trap,” Midorima says, wrecked and desperate, Takao shivering in his arms. The fear is palpable for both of them, the specter of Death looming, but neither can turn back on his duty._

_“I know. But our families reached to us for aid and you cannot go. I can’t… Not ma and not your mother. If there’s the slightest chance I can help them.”_

_“I know,” a broken reply, a hopeless one and Midorima pushes away from his lover, grasps for something on the night table. “I can’t keep you here. I won’t.” There is a knife in his hands, small and curved, its purpose more decorative than anything else. But its blade is sharp and cuts true as it slashes against the unprotected flesh of his palm. “But I won’t leave you alone once more.”_

_Magic bubbles to the surface, mixing with the blood as the boy offers the knife to the other. The gesture is repeated, tears streaming down Takao’s face as their palms come together, as the bond is sealed._

* * *

 

_Their last kiss is harsh and desperate, tastes of tears and defeat, but they cling to it nonetheless, make it last. The truth that might come to pass rings hollow in their bones, steals the breath from their lungs, but there is nothing they can do but hope._

_“Don’t you dare die!” A desperate plea cloaked in the form of an order, their hands coming together once more, scar over scar, before Takao turns his back on him._

_“I won’t,” a vow that echoes like a lie, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but it is a lie they must cling to if they wish to have any hope of turning it into reality._

_He follows Takao on his trip as he promised and knows the exact moment when he reaches the fringes of their town. He sees the tent of their childhood ablaze in front of his eyes, the fortune teller’s tarot cards scattering like leaves in the wind. Sees the man’s corpse lying in the dust, his eyes gouged out and throat slashed. Two cards lie under his bloodied hangs: Death and the Seven of Swords. A warning and a sign._

_Takao does not turn back; he wouldn’t even though he most likely knows what comes next. The first place he reaches is his home, torn to the ground, a mass of wood and brick and glass that betrays nothing of its former beauty. A sob hitches in his throat; his mother hangs in the tree where he had played during childhood, her body swaying in the wind like a stringed puppet. His father is on the ground, a hole in his chest where his heart had once lied, face frozen in a mask of terror that death preserved for eternity. Fire burns beneath Takao’s hands, an orb growing and growing until its heath promises to scorch even its master. As he releases it, the spell turns the bodies to nothingness, merely ashes that scatter in the wind._

_‘I’m sorry,’ Midorima whispers through their shared link, ‘I had hoped,’ the rest of his thoughts are silent, but an outpour of love and strength flares through. ‘Yeah, so have I,’ comes Takao’s silent answer as he moves on, steps shuffling through the ashes and the dust of what had once been beauty but now was a vestige of war. Midorima’s house lies towards the other edge of the town, a mansion that had often felt too grandiose and solemn for the raven-haired boy’s liking. Now he merely wishes that something, somehow had protected it._

_Hopes are futile and the gods never answer. That is the thought that crosses Takao’s mind as he sees the mansion, windows blown apart in a fury of scattered glass, the door ripped from its hinges and discarded. The white of the walls is painted crimson, the blood of the bodies strewn on the lawn used for a gruesome canvas. Servants all of them, people Takao had once known and interacted with. The Cook who used to give him cookies, the gardener who would always have a white rose for his mother, the butler who chided him whenever he ran down the halls. All dead…_

_‘Turn around,’ Midorima whispers through the bond, shock and horror entwined in the thoughts, but he stubbornly shakes his head in denial and enters the house. He knows where he will find them; the sitting area had always been cheerful where the rest of the house was solemn, filled with the happy chatter of Midorima’s mom and the awkward solemnity of his dad. Now it is hollow, and still, a portrait of death. The two are arranged carefully on the sofa, their hands entwined and their expressions challenging, undaunted. Death had captured their rebellion perfectly; Midorima is fiercely proud of them, even if he can see through the bond the way in which they had died._

_His mother holds the same hole in her chest as Takao’s father had; his father is missing an arm, the stump having long stopped bleeding as death had claimed its due. The crisscrossing wounds on his chest and torso were meant to wound and prolong the agony, a ritual of torture that has the winds howling around Midorima, his room at Teiko shaking with his fury._

_‘Get out, get out, get out,’ he urges, louder and louder as Takao finally shakes himself out of his stupor and turns, prepared to put as much distance between himself and the macabre display. He does not get far…_

_Shock flares on Midorima’s face as he sees the other’s opponents, a perversion of nature, an abnormality never meant to happen. Takao fights, but it is two against one and the anger in his soul is too deep, the pain too raw. Midorima bolsters him through their link, but his energy dim as the spells used by the enemies syphon it, their hits falling faster and faster unable to be parried. Rose vines tear from the ground, wrapping around Takao’s struggling body, biting into his flesh with each movement. The other enemy approaches, a cruel smirk on his face as a ceremonial dagger is raised._

_‘Don’t you dare!’ Midorima shouts, through the link, in the emptiness of his room, the winds at his disposal tearing through the Academy, shattering stone and glass as they burst without control. ‘Sorry there, Shin-chan. Looks like I’m gonna break my promise,’ the knight enchanter smiles through bloodied teeth and presses down on their bond without regret, severing it in a swift motion at the same moment the knife finds its target._

* * *

 

_He stays silent as the others make their vows, trembles with anger but does not even give it voice, despite seeing the same anger in Kise’s eyes, the same loss in Murasakibara’s. He wants to rage as well, wants to curse the very heavens and the gods he still believes in, wants to bring ruin to the very land they walk until all burns in destruction._

_But he cannot, not yet, not while their enemy still holds the upper hand. He will, though, he vows to himself, silently and fervently. Gods damn him if he will not! ‘No matter what,’ he swears, ‘no matter what, I will make them pay. I swear that, Takao!’_

* * *

 

His vision was hazy, blurred by the tears running down his cheeks and the backslash of a lifetime’s worth of memories slamming into him all at once. His legs trembled, the remembrance drowning him in sorrow and regrets, in the knowledge of the futility of all their actions. For all their promises, they had managed nothing at all in the end, merely to break their word yet again.

“Kuroko, Kagami,” he acknowledged the others, his voice gravelly due to the screams that had been ripped from his throat. “We failed.” Putting it into words is yet another defeat into itself, but even so he cannot deny the statement, not without lying to himself. They had lost.

“Not yet,” Kagami’s smile was dark and savage, almost wild and the determination in his eyes sparked hope anew in Midorima’s soul.

“Not yet,” Kuroko nodded, giving weight to Kagami’s belief, “our enemy is still out there and so are his lackeys. But so are we and the promises we made can still be honored, even if so much time has passed.” The shadows swarm under the blue haired boy’s feet, several of them rising slightly from the ground, nodding their approval before disappearing once more.

“Not yet.” _Not yet._ His gaze turned to a third glass spun figure lingering on a table near him. A hanged man[2], upturned, tied to his tree with a cord of crystal, face serene despite his position. His fingers closed around the bauble, lifting it from its place and as he did the winds burst from him, gentle and warm, twisting the scenery as they blew. The library of Teiko turned into a study, neat and ordered, a wide variety of baubles resting on the shelves. The image did not waver, nor did it change. It remained locked in place, another sign that the curse had weakened even further.

“Three more to go,” Midorima smiled sadly, pressing a reassuring hand on Kuroko’s shoulder as the colors started bleeding out around them, blending into a whirlwind of color. “You can go no further today. You must return.”

Minutes later, Kuroko found himself face to face with Midorima’s portrait; the stars shone brighter above the green haired archmage, his gaze turned from the chalice in his hand towards the horizon. Faint, almost unseen, a new figure stood in the back as a faithful guardian, a shadow with a sad smile lingering on its features.

* * *

 

[1] The Tower ( major arcana ): The Tower symbolizes revelations that bring old beliefs to the ground or shake the foundation of the world. Other meanings are disaster, upheaval or realizations.

[2] The Hanged Man (major arcana) means acceptance, letting go of the past and sacrifice.

[3] Death (major arcana ) means fear, loss, an end, death of the old.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The voice had started crooning as he had left the premise of the Sepulcher, Kagami’s steadying presence fading under the shadows that demanded his presence more. His lungs ached in pain, blood bubbling in his throat with each ragged cough that tore his airways, pale lips coated in crimson like a mocking testimony of his ailing health.

**_“_ ** _Ferrymen of the dead. A name that is as elusive as it is hard to explain. Nowadays no mage dares claim any collection to the so-called Shadow Masters, to those that once, in the distant past, were rumored to have been tasked with the balance of the world. The legacy of the Shadow Weaver is still too strong, too raw to overcome. Even now, though there might still be Masters out there, in our world, they dare not claim connection to the order out of fear of retaliation._

_However, how did such an Order come to be? We have nothing more than legends, stories with no historical basis that lead us to the answer. There might still be a grain of truth to them, but who can truly know? Still, the story goes like this._

_Once, at the beginning of the world, when mankind was still in nascent form, magic bubbled silently in the core of the earth. Humans had not yet the means to comprehend such powers, nor the mind to wield it. Still, one of them stood out. A scholar of her time, called fool and mad by her peers, this person walked the land, a solitary figure accompanied only by a talking raven on her journeys. She sought answers to the riddles of the world, wished to discover more than her peers could ever hope to comprehend._

_It is said that one day, crossing a bridge at night, she came across a veiled creature, scythe held lightly in one hand. The creature barred her path, stopping her from going forth unless she answered a riddle. If the answer was correct, she could pass on, obtaining knowledge beyond her wildest imagination as she did. If the answered wrong, her life would rest in the hands of the creature. And if she wished, she could turn, return to her voyages unscathed. She did not back away from the challenge; answering the riddle right, she obtained knowledge and power as she wished. But she was also given a purpose, the role to act as sentinel, to protect the balance to her death. It is said she was the first of the Ferrymen of the Dead, a Shadow Master long before magic came to be in the land. And from then on, their Order spread.” ( Rumors of the damned by Mage Harasawa )_

* * *

 

**_In the long-forgotten past_ **

**1.**

Perhaps he had been a fool to expect things to become easier after Kise had returned to himself, after the blonde-haired boy had stumbled out of his dorm the next day with a scowling shadow at his side, a dark-haired boy with bushy eyebrows that was two years older and seemed hell bent on not allowing anyone close to his charge.

Kagami had guessed that it was the senpai Kise had been talking about even without Kuroko’s assistance. Guilt seemed to cling to Kasamatsu like a second skin, the anger on his face clearly hiding the turmoil within. Neither Kagami nor Kuroko had known what to do with the stilted thank you they had received nor with the gratitude shinning so clearly in the boy’s gaze. However, the event had merely strengthened their resolve to bring the others back to themselves. No matter what happened, they would not fail, not when it was clear that more than just the archmages had been caught in the spider webs of the curse.

**2.**

Midorima had seemed hell bent to not give them the second of the day. Whereas Kise had been jealous, inflamed, his demands that Kuroko be returned to their midst exclaimed to all and sundry before their match, the green haired archmagi had been cold, disdain dripping from stern features each time his gaze settled on Kagami, voice hiding a mocking edge as he spoke.

“You have made a wrong choice, Kuroko,” he had stated, the barest hint of anger slipping over his cold mask. “He is beneath you. He does not understand your strength and never will. Why bother throwing your lot in with him?”

Kagami did not wait to hear Kuroko’s answer, merely bristled, the bond burning under his skin flaring in both his and the blue haired boy’s veins. Guardianship bond, a link that few could hope to accomplish in such times and still it had flared between them. He would not let the other down. He challenged Midorima, mocked the green haired boy for what was worth until true anger flared in the emerald orbs, until winds flared from clenched hands and lashed out of control.

Tatsuya had later berated him, nursing the scrapes and bruises that had resulted from the conflict, but Kagami had merely smiled, wild and challenging. He would not back down, not from any of the archmages. Teiko was supposed to be a means to test his strength and in these duels he had the chance to do so.

**3.**

Their second win was harder, much harder than Kagami could have ever expected. Midorima was stronger than Kise, less restrained and more on point, the flightiness of the other replaced with a frightening resolution. An unnatural anger fueled his movements with abandon, each hit stronger and stronger despite all odds.

A raven-haired boy watched from the sidelines, lips bitten raw as each hit fell on either side, but Kagami had not the time to pay him attention. Guardian magic flared under his fingers, Kuroko’s shadows hiding him as he darted to and fro, shielding himself to the best of his abilities from the vicious gusts of air tearing at him.

They won, but his legs collapsed under him, body quivering from the force of the spells that had granted them victory. The last blaze of magic flared in the entire room and it was not just Midorima whose gaze had cleared in the aftermath of the match, but several other students’ as well, eyes wide and confused as they struggled to understand what had come to pass.

“Kuroko, Kagami, thank you,” Midorima’s words stuttered, eyes seeking the crowd gathered in the training room wildly, a sort of desperation bleeding on his features even as he forced himself to keep them in check.

“You are welcome, Midorima-kun,” Kuroko said softly, a smile blooming on his features, stronger and truer than the one he offered Kise had been. With each win, the curse weakened.

**4.**

“What happened?” It seemed he was fated to eavesdrop on Kuroko and his old friends without meaning to, but still as he moved around the corner Kagami spotted the blue haired boy talking in low voices with Midorima, a reassuring smile on his features as he waited patiently for the answer to come.

“He forgave me,” the archmage sighed, fists clenching at his side. “He forgave me even if I did not deserve it. I hurt him, even though I had vowed not to. Kise told me it was a curse that twisted us so and that you would tell us more once all had come back to themselves.”

“That is true.”

“I wish you would tell us sooner, but that is your choice to make. Whatever is happening here, our foe has powers I had never expected to encounter. I do not know what his quarrel with us might be, but whatever either of us had expected from Teiko was not this. Is it truly fair of us to bring them into this? If they came for us once, they will not hesitate to come again and next time our loved ones will be caught even worse in the middle.”

“I think,” Kuroko said haltingly, eyes shuttering with pain and longing, “that it is not our choice to make, but rather theirs, no matter what happens.”

**5.**

Aomine came like a hurricane, challenging and bristling, so much like Kagami and still unlike. His limbs had barely started healing, legs supporting his weight with more ease and hands no longer trembling when he casted, but Kagami was far from healed when the blue haired whirlwind came challenging him, mocking his skills and his power with each cutting word that found its mark with ease.

Being smart about it, backing from the challenge and waiting to heal, did not even cross his mind. There was a reason Kuroko kept calling him Bakagami and perhaps that was part of it, his inability to restrain himself whenever someone more powerful than him challenged him. He dueled – alone, without Kuroko – and lost, a trail of blood running down his cheek as he struggled back to his feet, eyes still stinging from the onslaught of light Aomine had unleashed and breath knocked out of him.

It would have remained so, a battle lost and a challenge he had not been able to rise up to, had Kuroko not caught wind about it, blue eyes bitter and betrayed as he came across the scene, shadows swarming angrily under his feet.    

* * *

 

**_In the uncertain present_ **

_It starts slowly, an insidious change that will later take over him. A break, a split, something that he does not wish to acknowledge in the beginning. His mother is dead, his only reprieve from the demands of his father lost under a flowery grave and yet he is not allowed to stand still, to stop and mourn her. The lessons double, triple in number, his tutors in awe at his proficiency with the arcane arts, the demand to be better, stronger ever lying at the forefront of his mind._

* * *

 

_It would help perhaps, if the praise that had fallen so easily from his mother’s lips, would find even the faintest of echo in his father’s stern expectations. But there is no such sentiment to be found, his existence a mere extension of the Akashi name, never an identity of his own, the duty to win surpassing all else._

* * *

 

_Teiko comes as a sort of reprieve, a distancing from the severe, oppressing air of his home. The castle is grand, more beautiful than he can imagine and for the briefest of moments even he allows an ounce of boyish delight to steal over his features, a smile twisting his lips upwards when Nebuya is not watching. He rooms with his childhood companion, of course; it would be unbefitting a member of the Akashi family to room with just about anyone. His father’s reach extends even here, behind the tall, stone walls, but the distance puts things into perspective and he finds himself bending the rules just a little bit._

* * *

 

_The other archmages catch his attention; an unruly bunch brimming with power, holding the chance to aspire for greatness. Haizaki proves himself to be a weak link from the beginning and there is little doubt in Akashi’s mind that he will become redundant in time, especially since Kise holds the same skills, but augmented. He finds himself enjoying the days he can spent with his peers, training their skills in magic, preparing for a win that is sure to come._

* * *

 

_Kuroko comes as a surprise, a discovery made by Aomine that none could have expected. It is plain as day that the tanned boy is fiercely protective of his newfound friend, eyes training on the two of them even as he departs from the classroom like Akashi had requested. It makes him curious, what could have spurred such type of protectiveness from the other and he pays minute attention to the mage masquerading as an Elemental._

* * *

 

_The Akashi family had long had dealings with the Order Kuroko belongs to; Mibuchi and Hara, two of the newest Masters had often held council with his father. It does not take more than a passing glance thrown at the shadows swarming under the boy’s feet to understand the truth. Shadow Elementalists manipulate the light, of rather the lack thereof, in a room. The darkness clustered near the boy is alive, a pulsating mass with a mind of its own offering its allegiance to the one commanding it. It paints Kuroko for what he is, strips the lie from him and unveils the truth beneath. They both acknowledge the fact, though neither utters it. He leaves, offering only a bit of advice, but part of him burns with curiosity to know what Kuroko will do with it._

* * *

 

_The results are unexpected, more than he could have ever imagined. The partnership he had first seen between Kuroko and Aomine had flourished, both their skill mingling perfectly, a synchronicity never accomplished till then. He is curious to see how these skills will mingle with that of the other archmages; the Arcane Tournament is nearly upon them, but there are precious few who could hope to challenge them, especially if they add Kuroko’s skills to their combat strategies._

* * *

 

_He finds the dog in the gardens, a mere pup barely old enough to have left its mother, yipping pitifully as it seeks food and shelter. Dirt and leaves cling to its matted fur, a limp plaguing his foreleg, but his eyes are blue, sky blue and for a moment he is reminded of yet another with such eyes. He takes it, asks a healer to look over its leg and bathes it properly. What emerges is white, grey fur and boundless energy, the same striking blue eyes glancing at him with gratitude. It is not hard to decide what he will do to it; Kuroko’s eyes glimmer when he holds the pup, pure joy shining at the forefront of the emotionless façade he usually presents to better wield his powers. The dog licks his cheek in delight, makes the boy laugh and warmth spreads through Akashi’s being, a warmth he had not felt since his mother had died._

* * *

 

_They win their first tournament. It would have been hard with anyone else, perhaps impossible, but it was possible because it was them. The trophy should bring joy and pride, but it does anything but… A darkness spreads over Teiko, one that he does not have the presence of mind to see until it had long twisted its claws in all their souls, until it had caught them all in its grasp, mere puppets to dance to its tune. Looking back, he can see all the signs for what they were, but caught beneath the ever-growing web, his very being fractures even more._

* * *

 

_“Kuroko…”_

The voice had started crooning as he had left the premise of the Sepulcher, Kagami’s steadying presence fading under the shadows that demanded his presence more. His lungs ached in pain, blood bubbling in his throat with each ragged cough that tore his airways, pale lips coated in crimson like a mocking testimony of his ailing health. The skin on his back burned, the desire to tear at it mounting with each step he took, branches twisting and twining as they spread across his back.

_“Kuroko…”_

Nigou had not yet been able to return; the presence of the shadows demanded strength from him and with the curse furiously demanding its due for the breaking of yet another lock, the magic blooming in his veins had no the power to bring the hound forth. He made his way forward, inch by painful inch, the white of the snow peppered with tainted red as he struggled to reach the castle. There was perhaps a sort of poetic justice to the ordeal, a punishment for his – for their – failure in yonder times.

_“Come, come, I know you can hear me…”_

The voice echoed in the gardens, rang loudly as if the person was next to him. Sickly sweet, words coated in poison, a voice he remembered so well from the past. The shadows around him flickered and flared, desiring to reach to him, but being unable to. There would be no attack coming from Death or the Seven of Swords, no danger to shield himself from. It would be only the voice, its presence growing and growing with each step he took. The danger would come inside, behind the walls of the castle, in the place where he too stood imprisoned, their enemy.

_“Why struggle, Kuroko. I could order you to stop right now. Order you to surrender. Wouldn’t that be easier?”_

The voice lied; there was not enough power in it to command him thus, to make use of the magicks of this world, as there was not enough power in Kuroko’s veins to order to shadows at his side, to bring them forth as shield and sword. The voice lied, as it always had, twisted and manipulated the truth until nothing remained but the echoing whisper of what had once been. Only when all five locks would be broken, only with the curse rendered obsolete, would their enemy’s powers return. By then, it would be too late; if he were still alive, Kuroko’s own powers would return in full and no magic save one would be able to command him.

_“No? Fool as you always were. Didn’t you learn anything last time? You can’t ever hope to beat me!”_

The winds picked up pace, snow and ice battering at him relentlessly. His body moved through sheer determination alone, blue eyes ablaze in the maelstrom of white surrounding him. Beneath him the ground ran dark, shadow swarming under his feet, powerless still to act, yet strong enough to keep him going. He staggered, knees buckling but locking before he could fall. His hand went to wipe the snow off his face, coming off stained white and red, a mosaic of desperation and determination.

The wolves started howling behind him, their cries echoing closer and closer. Not yet there, still behind a barrier that was cracking with each thread of the curse he unlocked. Hands curled into fists at his side, tendrils of darkness twisting around fingers turning blue from the cold. The castle loomed in front of him, a tangible goal to be reached and yet it seemed the several dozens of steps left had turned into miles and miles winding without end in a desolate wasteland.

_“I am waiting for you, little magician. Do not think you will receive aid from those pests you claim to have trained. They remain shackled to the Sepulcher and to its grounds. My curse commands it so.”_

A shrill cry rang in the snowstorm, a blaze of fire and light bursting through the ice with abandon. The blaze grew brighter for moments, amorphous flame that was beautiful to look at yet so terrible in its power, before shifting, turning, growing smaller and delicate, wings stretching gracefully and fire feathers unfurling, mismatched eyes, golden and red glowing as the bird settled on Kuroko’s shoulders. Warmth permeated from it to the very fiber of his being, turned the snow under his feet in puddles and kept the storm at bay, its head rubbing daintily across Kuroko’s cheek.

Another echo of the past, an image seeped in both joy and sorrow; the bird had remained even after all had come back full circle, after the darkness of Teiko had dissipated. A small piece of Akashi’s power, a fragment that had broken from him due to the curse, but had steadfastly remained to guard him ferociously.

He reached the Castle, doors bursting open without his own accord as they had on his first day in the castle, the phoenix disappearing in a blaze of fire when he entered. There was a change to the layout of the castle, visible as soon as he passed through the doorway. A new corridor, veering towards the west side of the castle, not towards the wing that Akashi occupied and Kuroko had yet to see. No, the corridor turned downwards, a sudden descend into the shadowy recess of the dungeons, a pale, flickering light guiding the way, small yet alluring. The voice laughed in the darkness, a mocking, taunting sound that dared him come into its domain. There wasn’t truly a choice to be had; the Sepulcher was one test, the dungeon yet another. He had to pass all if the curse was to be lifted.

Steep steps, time worn and chipped led to the underbelly of the castle. The light flickered as he advanced, dying out completely before igniting yet again, toying with him as he followed the path. He stopped here and now, gathering the precious little strength he still had, forcing himself past the limit. In the gloom, the shadows beneath his feet swarmed anxiously, small tendrils wrapping around his legs and arms like a shield.

 _‘You are not strong enough to do this. Turn back, turn back,’_ they seemed to tell him, their voices unheard for millenniums, but still there, precious guardians that had even been by his side even when he had not known. _‘I need to do this,’_ he thought to himself, denying their request. He needed to confront the one that had defeated them, the one that had caused his death. The renegade of his Order.

_“So you have come. Stupid of you, but then again I never expected otherwise.”_

The stairs led not to a dungeon as Kuroko had expected, but rather to a large chamber, devoid of any ornaments or furniture save for the candelabra still lingering on the wall, broken and twisted, a remnant of misshaped metal and wax that served no purpose anymore. The mosaic under his feet cracked as he moved forth, pieces shifting with each step, broken bits of ceramic cutting into the fabric of his shoes as he walked. The paint on the walls, illuminated here and there by the still flickering light, was peeling and stained, black and red thrown haphazardly over what had been before, effectively hiding the beauty of before under the mask of angered destruction.

_“Do you remember this room, Kuroko? Quite the amusing last stand took place here.”_

The voice was closer now, reverberating from the far end of the room, one that was still shrouded in darkness. Kuroko remembered the room, of course, though it had lingered in a different part of the castle, closed forever after the ordeal that had taken place there. A room tainted by betrayal and death, blood spattered on its ground, a broken body lying on the mosaic: the headmaster breathing his last.

_“Found me.”_

The voice laughed, a shrill, bone chilling laugh that almost made the blue haired boy flinch back in remembered pain. However, his feet remained firm on the ground, eyes squinting in the darkness even as the light flickered in front of him, barely illuminating yet another portrait. A man, dark haired, with his mouth open in a mocking, rictus of a smile. Ten swords[1] stood around him, pinning him to a wooden board even as his steel eyes blazed with a challenging, unforgiving light. And in front of the painting a shadow, undulating under the flickering light, shaped in form of a man though holding no distinctive features.

“Welcome, little magician, to my domain,” the voice came from the painting, or perhaps from the shadow, stronger and cruel, a jeering laugh echoing in the cavernous room as the light blazed once before dying and the shadow lunged, spindly arms twisting from its form and catching Kuroko in its grasp. Pain wrecked his very being as the shadow hoisted him in the air, a blood curling scream echoing when the rose on his chest flared in agony.  

“Fool, fool, little magician, come here to die.”

* * *

 

[1] Ten of swords ( minor arcana – Thoth meaning ): Ruin, loss, destruction, separation, pain, catastrophe


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His feet kicked uselessly beneath him, body contorting and struggling to break free even as pain wrecked every fiber of his being. Spindly, shadowy fingers dug into his skin, red seeping over the black ink of the rose tattoo, magic flaring to the surface as the connection was made.

_“The Balance. Such an obscure term, one that supposedly governs the entirety of our world. It remains unknown what the Balance truly is, what powers dictate the inner workings of the past, present and future. Legends abound, many and varied, seeking to give name to that which remains elusive even today. Though scholars have started huffing and scowling at the manuscripts talking about the Balance, claiming them to be nothing more than the foolish ramblings of those that had yet to be illuminated, many peoples thriving in our lands still believe in such notions._

_Perhaps, the most interesting tale I have heard about the Balance, comes from an old crone living in the depth of the forest, threading lands said to be haunted and conversing with the spirits of the long departed. Many pegged the woman as senile and mad, but each of my discussions with her have been nothing short of illuminating, the spindly, old exterior hiding a razor-sharp mind and a talent for the arcane rarely seen in such times._

_The woman told me that the Balance cannot be seen nor heard. It is neither a person, nor a deity, but rather the heart of our world itself, alive, wild and free, a force that spans centuries in the blink of an eye. To call it otherwise is to deny its true self, to fail to understand the enormity of its presence. Humans have always wanted to alike the gods to themselves, she said, but the Balance is more than the gods and more than each insignificant speck of dust breathing in this world we call home. It merely is and will always be; its purpose is to witness the passage of time, standing witness in times of both destruction and rebirth._

_This is why, she explained, sometimes it chooses champions for itself, merely tools nothing more. Because these champions can do what it cannot; live and breathe in the moment, grasp it for themselves and mould it accordingly so that the future it knows must come to pass will do so.”_ (Tales from the fringes of our world by Cleric Kimura)

* * *

 

**In the long-forgotten past – Year Four, first half**

**1.**

“Your light is dim.”

The words came as a hit, though not one Kagami could not have expected. His guardian magic was strong, almost on level with the powers of the archmages, but he was not there yet, not really. Training away from Teiko had both helped and hindered him, allowed him to harness his powers without giving him worthy opponents to challenge himself with. Aomine’s words were delivered with the intent to hurt, to act as a blow, but the only thing they did was motivate him further, make him want to become stronger and stronger until he can defeat all of Teiko’s finest.

It had been harder to explain to Kuroko where his desire to accept Aomine’s challenge had come from, why he had acted, almost recklessly so. The blue haired boy still feared the dark magic at Teiko, the tendrils that mercilessly caught anyone in their grasp; it was not hard to see why their duel, twisted through the lens of the curse would be reason to worry.

“I had thought…” Kuroko hesitated, not giving voice to the doubts still swirling in his mind, but the intent was clear enough. Had things been different, Kagami might have been the one to face similar demons as the archmages, might have succumbed to the same darkness. But things were not different and the bond between them pulsed, alive and strong, guilt and apology flaring on Kuroko’s end. “But I was wrong. I am sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Kagami answered, a million words lingering between them, unspoken yet heard nonetheless. _We will become stronger, strongest even and we will win, we will bring them back,_ echoed in their souls, a promise meant to be seen to its end.

**2.**

The duel between Kise and Aomine came as an unexpected event, a spur of the moment thing where the blue haired archmage drove the other into such a rage that a challenge was issued. Kuroko had not heard what happened, merely that words had been exchanged, Kasamatsu being the target of Aomine’s barbed insults. With memories of the spell still raw, with his own guilt bubbling just beneath the surface, Kise had not even hesitated, throwing a gauntlet to the one he admired most among their group.

“Kise,” Kasamatsu sighed, hand moving to aim a half-hearted slap to the other’s head. “Were the dramatics truly necessary?”

“Aominecchi insulted you, senpai. Called your powers worthless,” the blonde pouted, though it was clear from his countenance that once the heat of the moment had passed, he too saw the futility of his actions. “I’ve gotta defend your honor.”

“Brat! I can defend my honor by myself if I so wish,” the older of the two grumbled, kicking the blonde off the chair he had perched himself on.

“But you can’t, can you?” Kise answered softly, not even bothering to complain after picking himself up. “Aominecchi is too strong now under the power of that darkness. I cannot either, but I can tire him enough so that Kurokocchi and Kagamicchi stand a chance. He’s already challenged them again.”

Kasamatsu sighed, the annoyance bleeding from his face as he beheld the other with a mix of deep pride and profound exasperation. “You need to stop placing yourself in these kinds of situations,” he said, but made no other move to change Kise’s mind.

**3.**

The aftermath of the duel was more painful than the duel itself; Kise remained undaunted even as his legs and arms shook, even as he lacked the power to struggle back to his own feet, Kasamatsu’s arm hooked across his waist to support him. Golden eyes bore into dark blue, determination shinning in their depth, even as all strength had left him and he had to concede defeat.

“You are weak,” Aomine said, gaze narrowed in disdain as the tendrils of darkness clung even tighter to his being. “Did you honestly think you stand even a slither of a chance?”

“Of course. I just lost because I am not strong enough, yet,” Kise challenged with a fake grin, without bothering to add _‘Not yet, but one day I will be.’_ He liked to think Aomine had heard his unspoken words nonetheless.

“Don’t state the obvious,” the other scoffed, turning his back on the blonde-haired boy and walking away, the crowd gathered to watch the duel parting like water at his passage.

The anger came later; the sheer frustration and dismay, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes and breaking into loud, ugly sobs, face hidden in Kasamatsu’s shirt as his body was wrecked by sadness, not the usual histrionics he was prone to, but rather sheer, unadulterated sorrow. However, as Aomine walked away and Kasamatsu offered him a hand to stand, rose him back to his feet, only a soft sigh broke through his lips, the sign of emotions close to bubbling over but not there yet.

“You did well. You gave the others their chance. Besides, once he’s back to himself, you can very well try and get back at him,” the older boy said softly as soon as they were alone, the students of Teiko giving them a wide berth when Kasamatsu led them to his dorm.

“Yeah,” Kise nodded. It was then that the first tears started streaming down his cheeks.

**4.**

Things continued as they were after the duel. Kagami kept training, spells hurled with abandon in empty classrooms, synchronicity with Kuroko perfected until it was a well-oiled machine. Sometimes Kise joined them, acting as either adversary or sparring partner, his versatile magic conjuring obstacles they could not have thought of alone. Sometimes Midorima came as well, more oft than not accompanied by Takao, challenging them to practice in groups of two, the partners switching after random periods of time to keep them from growing reliant on one another. They did not have much time; the day of the duel was fast approaching and neither wished to see a repeat of the defeat Kagami had endured.

Even as they trained, they could feel the darkness at Teiko strengthening, spell becoming sharper and animosity growing with each passing moment. Unless they managed to break another link of the web being woven around the Academy, both feared a war might very well break in their midst.

It might very well had been what their enemy wished: discord and hatred running rampart. However, that did not mean they would make their task easy, whoever that person hiding in the shadows might have been.

They would win; there was no other option.

**5.**

In the dark of the night, long after training had ended and their bodies still quivered with exhaustion, Kuroko would continue training Ogiwara, telling his friend the secrets of their order and preparing him as an apprentice truly should be. Perhaps it was hasty, a move made too soon, as Kuroko himself was not yet a master. Perhaps it would prove pointless, Hara returning at the final moment and bringing a semblance of order back to the chaos that was Teiko. However, they could not rely on fate, happenstance and their whims. For good or evil, the choice had been laid on their shoulders and they had made it. What came next was anyone’s guess.

* * *

 

**_In the uncertain present_ **

His feet kicked uselessly beneath him, body contorting and struggling to break free even as pain wrecked every fiber of his being. Spindly, shadowy fingers dug into his skin, red seeping over the black ink of the rose tattoo, magic flaring to the surface as the connection was made. Kuroko screamed, a harsh, guttural cry of agony torn from him despite his desire to keep from showing weakness in front of the one who had caused his death.

“Foolish child. To think you could challenge me in my own realm. I have waited centuries for your arrival.”

The shadow flared, multiplied, a myriad of dark bodies echoing with jeering mockery from every corner of the room. They changed, taking form, barely there features peering from the dark mass. Long waving hair and misshaped fingers, a shadow with a limp and one of an elderly woman, a boy barely on the cusp of adulthood and a girl with knives twirling between her fingers. Previous Offerings, Kuroko understood with a pang, the echo of those long dead.

“Year after year after year. All of them useless. All of them merely echoes of the past, soulless forms with barely any sustenance to their very being. Until finally, the Balance brought you forth. In my claws once more. Teiko’s little Shadow Master.”

The voice turned dark, tinged with hatred and malice. The shadow it commanded rattled Kuroko, shaking him like a rag tool still suspended in mid-air, the curse still flaring in agony with each motion.

“You dared defy me and you lost. But still, still the Balance denied me of my victory. Still it kept you in its grasp and brought you back. What makes you so special?” the voice hissed, poison coated words echoing louder and louder with each passing second. Kuroko stared back undaunted, blue eyes brimming with icy fury as they beheld the enemy they had all faced in the long-lost past.

“Nothing,” Kuroko coughed blood as he forced the words out, “The Balance looks after this world and uses the tools it deems best to protect it. I am merely one of its tools.”

“A tool? You are the favorite,” the shadow cried in anger, “How many of your Order have I slain? How much of their power have I gathered? And still it did not bring them back. It brought you. It is all your fault. But it matters little; I kill you now and the Balance won’t have time to bring you back. If the locks are not all broken, the curse will continue. And it WILL break them down.”

There was no denying the statement; Kuroko had seen the wear of time on Kise’s child form, on Midorima’s, the damage dealt by the curse as it kept them in its clutches. Their life, their magic, the only elements keeping the curse from spreading outside the bubble in which it had been captured.

The shadows tightened their grasp, spindly arms turning sharp, a blade placed precariously close to the boy’s throat even as the voice of the shadow laughed with abandon, the portrait’s dark eyes glinting in the darkness.

“It’s over,” it said, a thin cut appearing on pale skin as the blade pressed closer.

“No, it is not,” Kuroko replied, darkness building under his fingers as he spoke. It was folly, utterly so, to attempt what he had planned in his current state. There was precious little strength he had to spare and his powers were far from being at their fullest levels. He felt his own shadows tremble with anxiety at his resolve, their voices washing over him as he build up power in his hands.

 _“It is too soon,”_ one said, an older chiding voice that added its own strength to the spell despite the stark disapproval.

_“I know.”_

_“It will hurt,”_ came another, softer and supportive, the warm touch of a friend lingering even after its own power had been added to the spell.

_“I know.”_

_“You will have even less time,”_ a third, caution lingering in its tone, a warning that Kuroko knew all too well. It might be too late; by all accounts it may already be too late.

_“I know.”_

_“Good luck,”_ came the last, the softest of them all, a fleeting embrace brushing over his limbs when its own power was added to the first three. A whirlwind of darkness bloomed between Kuroko’s fingers, growing larger and larger with each of those lending their power to him. It hurt, the pain of wielding such power mingling with the agony of his own curse, but he pushed through, hands wrenching from the grasp of the enemy, raising before him in a semblance of a shield. The other laughed, jeering, his own victory too assured to pay attention to the growing whirlwind that in a moment of inattention grabbed tendrils of the shadow in its maelstrom. And when it did, Kuroko pulled, the chaotic, swirling darkness grasping the shadow tight.

It was hard, grasping control of a soul, no matter how splintered or unnatural it might be. It was hard and abhorrent, a power none should wield, but one that had lingered in his veins since he had started training. Kuroko had oft refrained from using such power, reluctant to channel it even towards wayward shadows that lingered on earth to torment others, but the situation at hand called for such measures. The enemy’s spirit stilled, limbs falling in disarray at his side, his form slumping over in defeat even as the voice raged, yelling profanities, its words the only element that had not fallen under the blue haired mage’s control. In a moment, Kuroko flung the darkness forward, towards the portrait, pushing through the canvas, the colors bleeding in one another as it passed through them. Behind it the colors stilled, returning back to their normal state, the voice cut out all of a sudden, locked, if only for the moment.

Kuroko’s body remained suspended in the air for a second longer before falling to the ground, a puppet with its strings cut. His knees met the ground in a jarring hit, hands scrapping themselves raw on the broken floor. A shuddery breath escaped blood stained lips, feet pushing themselves gingerly upwards as he hobbled outside the room, step after painful step, before the shadow had the chance to break through the bindings once more and escape the painting. The door to the chamber swung shut behind him, the echoing thud accompanying him until at long last he reached the main hall of the castle.

“It’s truly him,” he sighed, darkness stealing over his sight as his body toppled over. The last he saw before surrendering himself to oblivion were a pair of mismatched eyes, just the faintest hint of scarlet bleeding into the golden hue.

“Kuroko…” Akashi murmured, hands gently cradling the blue haired boy before he knew no more.

* * *

 

He woke later; hours had passed or perhaps only minutes, he did not know. His skin burned fiercely, the vines on his arms and torso constricting, the ink bleeding into the tender flesh, tearing at it and leaving harsh, red lines behind. His lungs rattled, breathing ragged and shallow; it was as if the rose on his chest was also blooming in his lungs, petals spreading and constricting. It took a while, to push back the hurt, the blinding pain burning in his veins, to be able to discern the second sensation making its way past the fog in his mind. A gentle touch, firm fingers pressing in the palm of his hands, soothing circles distracting his mind from the agonizing pain. The memory came sudden, unbidden, an echo from Teiko back from when the overuse of his powers led to him being violently sick, days spend in bed with blinding headaches.

_( “Akashi-kun seems to have a talent for this,” he had whispered, a soft cloth placed gently over his eyes to keep the light away, fingers rubbing circles along his skin, chasing the pain away and replacing it with warmth._

_“My mother used to do the same to me whenever I was ill,” the red-head had replied, an unseen smile lingering on his features as his fingers closed around Kuroko’s wrist, hand dragged gently upwards, warm breath ghosting over the skin of the blue haired boy’s palm._

_“Akashi-kun,” the shadow mage protested half-heartedly, not making any move to draw his hand away even as kisses were pressed into his palm, making him shiver. )_

He blinked, head tilting sideways to look at the figure sitting in a chair next to his bed. The flash of scarlet from before had yet again disappeared from Akashi’s eye, horns no longer adorning the other’s head and though he looked as unaffected as ever, there was a slight furrow to his brows, a light in his eyes that spoke of changes that had occurred.

“How much?” Kuroko croaked, throat raw and parched, words garbled as he fought to utter them. A glass of water made its way to his lips, the cool liquid soothing the burns, allowing him to ask properly. “How much more have you remembered?”

“Up until the beginning of our second year at Teiko. After we had just won the Arcane Tournament.” There was no need to explain further; they had both lived the same moments, both remembered clearly the first year at Teiko and the moment when things had started changing, though Akashi knew not what came afterwards.

“Your curse has spread again.” The change in discussion was unexpected, though perhaps not surprising. Kuroko could feel the bandages wrapped tightly around his wrists and arms, could sense that more lay underneath his clothing.

“How much more?” He did not really need an answer. Kuroko could feel the inked thorns digging into his wrists, stigmata tearing at paper-thin skin, droplets of blood bled out from the feeble flesh, staining the bandages in tainted crimson. He could feel the branches twisting around his back and torso, constrictive and oppressing, cutting the air from his lungs, replacing it with the blood blooming on his lips with every cough and gasp.

“Too much. Whatever occurred this time, it shortened your time considerably, Kuroko.”

Blue eyes peered inquisitively, a question lingering in their depth before being muttered out loud. “Twice now. Has Akashi-kun decided to stop calling me Tetsuya?” The inquiry was innocent enough, uttered in the same emotionless tone Kuroko usually employed. However, there was a depth to it though Akashi had no way of knowing yet, the choice a jarring one pointing back to a time when they had been barely friends.

“I had thought you would not wish to be called by a name that could _now_ control you. Your True Name does just that,” Akashi replied, fragments of memories still unlocked flashing before his eyes, a time of before when he had vowed never to try and control the blue haired boy’s actions again. He knew not how such promise had come to be, what had given him such power over the other, but that promise had held weight, ingrained in his heart even as he did not remember the actions behind it.

“ **Now** does not matter. It is merely a warped reality,” the answer was vicious, surprisingly so, bitterness echoing in every word and Akashi almost flinched from the despair of it all.

“Kuroko…”

“I apologize. That was unfair of me,” though the words were courteous enough, his voice remained vexed, annoyance interwoven with sorrow, the wrongness of the situation echoing in the very fiber of his being like a staccato. The contrast between before and now was painful, his heart shattering with every remembrance before piecing itself back together sloppily, a mosaic of destruction reminding him how broken he – _they_ – truly were. “I do not mind if Akashi-kun calls me Tetsuya.”

“Very well,” Akashi nodded, attention turning back to the bandages wrapped around Kuroko’s wrists, to the pain written clearly on the boy’s features. “Others would have given up by now and none could have blamed them.”

“Perhaps,” Kuroko acquiesced. “But I cannot. As long as it remains in my power to break this curse, I will.”

“I know. Perhaps that is why you have always been the strongest of us all,” and this time the words were not spoken with the conviction of less than two years’ worth of shared memories, but more, an echo of a life shared and a link forged. The frayed ends of an old bond flared in Kuroko’s soul, strengthened, tendrils reaching for the other and a sense of wonderment washed over the blue haired boy.

 _Oh._ He had not thought, had not dared to hope. Yet, despite all odds, it was still there. **Alive.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moon for Kise, the crescent shining above his head, pale white light chasing the darkness away, giving shape to the monsters hiding in the gloom. A night sky for Midorima, the very celestial planes that guided his life sparkling like diamonds in the dark, echoing the brilliance of Suns hidden at the far end of the universe. And now, a lone star for Aomine, shining bright, brighter than any other, its light far-reaching and gentle, but mesmerizing to look upon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! I am soooooo late with this and I am so very sorry, but Aomine has been a headache to write and this entire chapter is so centric it killed me. Many, many thanks to Arte who kicked me into shape and nagged me to continue writing, because I can tell you with absolute certainty without her efforts this chapter wouldn't have happened anytime soon. Once again sorry for the long wait, guys!

_“Archmage, a specialization that has long fallen out of use, a title that many strive for, but none has been able to achieve in recent times. It is said that archmages hold the greatest command over the arcane forces, tap into the very core of primordial magic and use it according to their wishes, shape it and channel it. Legends wave terrifying stories about archmages, stories tell us that the elements answer to their will, that the forces of necromancy respond to their summons and even the healing arts are not beyond their skill. Whether such is the truth or not, we have no way of knowing. These skills remain legendary, belonging to the tales of old. None, not even the brightest of Rakuzan Academy or the staunchest of Seirin Academy have been able to rise to the level of archmage in recent times._

_Rumors speak of a generation long lost, hidden by the veil of time, a group of powerful archmages all students at the illusive Teiko Academy, that rose to the highest peaks of magic. A group of five, as revered as it had been reviled, powerful beyond belief, absolute winners of several Arcane Tournaments that were once held in our lands. Their names remain lost to time, their existence a mystery still, one that makes many shake their heads in skepticism. Though I tend to side with the skeptics, to agree to their disbelieving mutterings, still I shall record their tale in the pages of this books. I have been unable to learn anything more about this illusive group save for the name they had been called by: The Generation of Miracles.”_ (Tales from the fringes of our world by Cleric Kimura)

* * *

 

**1.**

Aomine had been a challenge when pulling his punches, spells bright and strength unwavering, a reckoning force that brought Kagami to his knees with nary any hesitation. This though, this Aomine, standing at full strength in the duel room was another type of monster, a primordial force that would force him to reach 100% of his powers and even more to defeat him. A cocky grin flared on the archmage’s features, a come hither beckoning and Kagami did not fail to raise up to the challenge, movements casual, but elated, the challenge of an opponent stronger than him motivating him more than everything.

“You stand no chance,” Aomine had said when they had last met. “Your light is dim.” And perhaps it had been, powers honed in the seclusion of his home, no one to test his strength against but Alex, but now things stood differently. Teiko had taught him much, more than he could have ever expected and with his friends’ expectations resting on his shoulders, he would not lose. He would not fail Kuroko, not when their link flared in his veins, not when their strength was shared between one another, closer than friendship,  a bond akin to brotherhood, power flowing with abandon whenever their magic flared in battle.

“You stand no chance,” Aomine said again this time, self-assured, sparks bursting across his hands, but this time Kagami smirked, undaunted. “We’ll see about that,” he replied, taking a step forth, signaling the start of their duel.

**2.**

“I’ve never seen something like this before. Not even when we dueled,” Kise gasped, golden eyes wide with surprise as they strained to follow the movements of the two forces of nature in the duel room. More than half of the Academy had gathered to watch, their numbers straining for the narrow room and yet the players involved in the duel paid them no heed nor attention. “An immovable object meeting an unstoppable force.”

“They are going beyond anything anyone has ever seen till now,” Kasamatsu nodded, brows furrowed as the watched the clash in the arena. The moment their powers had come completely undone, Kuroko had stepped to the side, his shadows weaving from the distance, blue eyes wide in astonishment as the two archmage level practitioners broke all boundaries of magic.

“They won’t be able to sustain this level,” Midorima interjected, taped fingers drumming a beat in Takao’s own palm in silent anxiousness. “It’s too much of a strain for their bodies. Whoever breaks first, that one will lose. And though Leo is ranked above Virgo today, I would not be so assured of Kagami’s victory.”

“It’s been already several minutes,” Himuro agreed. “Whatever happens, will happen soon. One of them will break.”

“Kagami has Kuroko to help him, though. Even though right now there’s no way to truly  interfere, Aomine’s own hubris, all of the archmages’ arrogance at allowing a two on one duel might end up tipping the scales,” Kasamatsu pointed out.

“Don’t be so quick to forget about Tet-chan, Shin-chan. After all, they managed to beat both you and Kise without training very hard,” Takao grinned, though his eyes were concerned and his feet twitched where he stood, a ball of nerves and anticipation that could not wait to see how the duel would end.

**3.**

“Aomine-kun,” a breathless whisper passed pink lips, eyes wide in astonishment as Momoi watched the duel with rapture. The smile flaring on Aomine’s face, the shadows dispersing from his eyes bit by bit; how long had it been since she had seen such joy on her childhood friend’s face? “It looks like he’s having fun,” she whispered, tears forming behind pink eyelashes, fervent prayers muttered in silence as her hands twisted into one another.

‘Their focus and reaction speeds have exceeded maximum.’ To the forefront of the crowd, yet successfully hidden by shadows that cloaked his presence, red and gold eyes watched the game with curiosity, a sense of intrigue lingering in the mismatched gaze. ‘It’s a stalemate, for now. Soon enough, one or the other will break it.’

Power flared on the dueling ground, a mix of the elements and raw magic bursting from one to another, meeting in mid-air, a clash of power that might have razed everything to the ground had security measures not been put into play. And suddenly, the stalemate broke, a blaze as bright as the sun bursting across the ground, a sense of warmth filling the chamber as the arcane powers spread.

It was like waking up from a bad dream and realizing none of it had been real. It was like waking to sunshine after walking in the dark for so long. It was pure and bright and blinding and little by little some of those gathered round to watch the duel **_woke up._**

**4.**

The duel did not last much longer. Light mixed with darkness, shadows bolstered by the blazing brilliance and Kuroko returned in the thick of the duel, the intensity of the clash mellowed down considerably to allow him more room to act. The duel took them to the edge of their powers and beyond, past a threshold none would have been able to imagine, but in the end, they won, legs shaking under them in exertion and breath coming in tired huffs. Kuroko swayed on the spot, darkness dancing at the edge of his vision and he toppled briefly, just to be caught by Aomine before reaching the ground. The haze had lifted from the other’s eyes, the darkness that had been coiled around him so tightly dispersing at long last.

“Tetsu,” he whispered, shame and guilt intertwined tightly in the single word. “What in the world is going on?” He remembered what he had been told before the haze had fallen over him, before he had lost himself in the darkness of the spell aimed at them. “What have I done?”

“I’ll tell Aomine-kun everything as soon as the others are back,” Kuroko stated softly, strength returning to him bit by bit, the shaking of his legs settling to allow him to stand upright again. Kagami appeared at his side, a sentiment of extreme relief blazing on his face. “Welcome back, Aomine-kun,” the blue haired boy grinned, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Another blow dealt to their enemy. Another friend returned to himself. However, the challenges were not over yet.

**5.**

 “Tet-chan you should sleep,” Takao prompted gently. “Kagami claims you need rest and it might be the end of the world, but even Shin-chan agreed with him and instructed me not to let you out of bed until your strength replenishes. The healer Momoi brought said your magical core was slightly depleted and though it is nothing threatening, you should rest.”

“I am fine, Takao-kun,” the blue haired boy in question peeked from beneath a mountain of blankets, eyes blinking blearily as they fought to focus on his friend. “I am not tired.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that. That is why you almost kneeled over when you tried to get to the bathroom. It was a wild duel, it’s no surprise you can barely stand after all that insane clash of magic.”

“Kagami-kun did most of the work,” the shadow mage corrected lightly.

“I beg to disagree and Kagami would be the first to agree with me. Kagami might have been the most visible, but you were a force to be reckoned with. And without your powers mixing, the spell wouldn’t have been lifted, not for Aomine-kun and not for the rest of the students that got caught in the backslash.”

Though Kuroko wished to interject, the discussion drew to a sudden close when the door to their room slammed open all of a sudden, the loud thud echoing in the hallways beyond it.

“Kuroko,” Ogiwara came barreling in their room, disbelief and just a hint of apprehension on his features as he waved the letter in his hand wildly. The shadow mage’s attention focused on the newcomer, body moving out of the blanket forth and struggling to an upright position. “Teacher sent us a letter. Something happened to Hara-sensei!”

* * *

 

**In the uncertain present**

_‘Remember; the rule is in the colors, in the flashes of light that chase the darkness away. But be wary; there is a pattern to them, a rule that must be followed. Break it and pay the price! ’_

A moon for Kise, the crescent shining above his head, pale white light chasing the darkness away, giving shape to the monsters hiding in the gloom. A night sky for Midorima, the very celestial planes that guided his life sparkling like diamonds in the dark, echoing the brilliance of Suns hidden at the far end of the universe. And now, a lone star for Aomine, shining bright, brighter than any other, its light far-reaching and gentle, but mesmerizing to look upon.

It had taken days until that single star had appeared, days of pouring over charts and waiting for his strength to replenish, for his limbs to stop quivering in pain whenever he did something too strenuous and his lungs to stop seizing, forcing him into coughing fits that left him weak and helpless.

It had been foolish of him to challenge their enemy so soon, pride and anger overriding everything, casting aside all semblance of restraint, the memories of the past dragged to the forefront of his mind, death and loss and sorrow warring inside his soul, until all that was left was turmoil and the desire to rain destruction upon their enemy, to inflict the same pain upon him as he had inflicted upon others.

It had been foolish, utterly so, as his magic was far from being at its peak, the curse etching patterns in his flesh dragging him down, a chain twisting around his powers, shackling them until all pieces of the puzzle were unlocked. He had not been able to do more than anger the other, dealing an insignificant blow and casting him back in the painting from whence he had come, lashing at him with powers he still could not control yet. Whereas their enemy had come out of the meeting none worse for the wear, he had chipped away at hourglass of his life, breaking it apart and reshaping it anew smaller, the sand falling much faster than before. It had been a loss, if such meetings could ever be quantified, a misstep that he had paid for and would pay for still.

But there was no way to unwind time, to cast himself in the past and stop his foolish self from taking the wrong course of action. What had been done was done and there was no choice but to move forward, to patch his wounds and bruises, the past doling its own lessons, learnings he could shape in shield and armor, protect himself from similar occurrences.

The gardens were no longer silent, the unnatural stillness of before cast aside, nature slowly coming to life in the gloom. The storm howled, ice and snow pelting the entire expanse of the grounds with abandon, frozen, decaying trees rustling, their shattered branches snapping under the force of the wind. Nigou’s own steps echoed in the darkness, his shape corporeal and strong once more, driven by powers slowly unlocking with each broken piece of the curse, paws running with dazzling speed across the grounds.

And then there were the howls, the dangers lurking in the darkness, the wolves finally free of their bound. The threshold between the forest and the castle had blurred, cracked, the boundaries bleeding into themselves, paving a way for the beasts hiding beneath the trees. It did not take long for them to appear; the crunch of snow echoing over the voice of the storm, the panting breaths and the howls that rang closer and closer all speaking of their arrival. Nigou growled, a low, guttural sound banking in his throat, a threat against the enemies swiftly approaching. Red eyes gleamed in the shadows, white fangs glistering with hunger and the leader of the pack sprang forth, its massive paws bringing him on their trail in nothing but seconds.

The shadow hound increased his pace, jaws snapping behind him with fury, almost closing on one of the approaching wolves before the beast sidestepped. Kuroko turned, magic building between his fingers, shadows shaping themselves in small daggers. With a flick of his wrist, the blades soared, their aim swift and true, embedding themselves in two of the wolves, bringing them to the ground. Wounded howls echoed in the night, plaintive cries of those lying on the threshold of death and several members of the pack paused, in fear, in sorrow, lingering next to their fallen kin even as the rest continued their maddened run.

_‘Beware little magician, there are monsters hiding in the darkness. And all are out for your blood.’_

_It seemed some of the monsters had forsaken the darkness, the crumbling curse giving them the power to break free and hunt outside the constrains of their woods. However, there was more than just the wolves, more than the darkness fueling their steps and the lingering sense of wrongness. Kuroko knew all too well what lay in wait._

_Nigou jumped, paws slipping for a split of a second on the slippery surface before finding purchase again, the moment of hesitation allowing the leader of the pack to almost catch on to them. Shadows coalesced in Kuroko’s hands once more, a spear of darkness brought to life and the teal haired boy flicked it backward, blade grazing the wolf’s shoulder. The beast howled, fury and pain echoing in the emptiness of the gardens, his cry making the trees shake, but as it prepared to string forth once more, the doors of the Sepulcher snapped shut behind Kuroko, his destination reached at long last._

* * *

 

“The wolves are free,” Midorima’s voice echoed in the silence of the mausoleum, Kagami standing next to his portrait in solemn silence. Taped fingers moved to arrange his glasses, an unconscious gesture that held no use in a portrait made to remain unchanged through the ages; it was enough of a sign to convey the green haired mage’s agitation, the undercurrent of uncertainty ringing in all their souls. “The bonds are fracturing. Soon he will be able to break free.”

“Midorimacchi, there is no need to state the obvious,” Kise chided, portrait flaring to life as the blonde turned his attention to the other. “Kurokocchi knows this, perhaps better than all of us. Isn’t it right?” Golden eyes turned to Kuroko’s direction, their scrutiny almost uncomfortable in their intensity. At his side Midorima inhaled sharply, the archmage understanding without being told what Kise was trying to convey. 

The blue haired boy nodded, a simple jerk of the head, the flare of guilt he still felt for that encounter pushed down, in the depth of his soul, hidden by a placid façade and emotionless gaze. “He is getting stronger,” was all that Kuroko offered, keeping the details of his encounter with their enemy a secret. 

“Instead of wasting time chatting, we should get going. The star won’t linger on the sky forever,” Kagami interjected, attention turning already to the third portrait, unwilling to fall prey to the uncertainty felt by the others.

“Kuroko, before you go, ask any question you might have. The curse won’t allow you to speak to us once Aomine’s portrait is unlocked,” Midorima pointed out.

_‘Beware of Temperance; his answers may aid or hinder.’_

“There is nothing I can ask at the moment Midorima-kun, not with the knowledge I have so far. There is much still that I do not understand, that I do not remember. I’ll need to know where we went wrong if we are to have any hope to make all of this right. But now is not the time.” His eyes turned towards the two portraits for a moment, sorrow flaring on his features, pretenses put aside for the moment. “Midorima-kun, Kise-kun, I do not know if you would wish to know this, but they linger still.”

The goblet fell from Midorima’s hands, shock flaring on his features. Kise’s eyes brimmed with tears, sorrow burning in his gaze. “Kurokocchi, I do not know if you did us a kindness right now or an injustice,” Kise replied through his tears, before whispering, “but even so, it was the right choice to tell us. Take care of them, Kurokocchi.”

Before the blue haired boy had a chance to nod the portraits became still once more, magic flaring inside the dreamscape as the two retreated from sight. All that remained was Aomine’s portrait, beckoning, the colors already rippling across its surface, a swirling mass of darkness crackling with silver and gold shaping the gateway.

“Let’s not keep Aho waiting.” Kagami grinned, already striding through the portal, ignoring Kuroko’s long-suffering sigh and his mock dejected call of “Kagami-kun.”

Within moments, Kuroko too had stepped through, leaving behind the empty Sepulcher.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps it should not have been surprising to see verdant green stretching in all corners, thick, foliage walls raised around them, constraining them on a narrow lane stretching forward and veering suddenly left in the distance. Branches littered the ground here and there as they walked, twigs cracking under their steps, echoing in the overall stillness of the place.

“A maze?” Kuroko asked in bewilderment, the setting different from what they had grown to expect.

“A solarium,” Kagami corrected, pointing to the roof above their heads, thin slivers of sunlight filtered through the glass.

“Momoi-san’s aunt had solariums,” Kuroko nodded, memories of the pink haired girl brought to the forefront of his mind.

“Yeah, and Aomine used to hide on their rooftops to shrink his duties. Bastard couldn’t have made it easier for us to find him up there instead of tossing us below in the maze?” Kagami grumbled as he sidestepped, narrowly missing a root twisting out of the ground.

“I do not believe Aomine-kun had any say in the shaping of the dreamscape. Though, I cannot say I am surprised that Kagami-kun managed to recognize this place, as opposed to the rest,” Kuroko teased gently, ignoring his guardian’s sputtering and outraged coverups.

Aomine and Kagami’s relationship had always been a source of amusement for their group, a whirlwind of bravado and blustering meeting into the middle point, sparks flying and spells echoing until both broke down in exhaustion, strength spent and breathless, still caught in a stalemate but grinning with abandon as they promised a rematch the next time. It had been heart lifting to finally see Aomine find a match of his own, to see him discover his love for magic anew. It had been just as heart lifting to see the sadness stripped from Kagami’s soul layer by layer, to see him stop burying the grief of his mother’s death in practice and duels. Kuroko merely wished that their presence now would be able to achieve the same result as it had done in the past.

As they walked, the same decay fell over the maze as it had in the previous two instances. Whereas fire had taken over the other two dreamscapes, roaring flames laying waste to all in their path, the dissolution of Aomine’s prison was more insidious, darkness stealing over the branches of the maze, rot settling in their core, festering shadows turning the verdant green into putrid grey. The maze flickered from blooming life to rotting death, images succeeding at different paces, the scent of decay lingering even after the green had returned. There was less fury in this transformation, the anger of the roaring fires turned into a lazy approach at destruction, a second thought barely offered interest as if the enemy had ruined the solarium merely out of a childish whim.

“Yo, what are you doing here? No one’s allowed in the maze!” The appearance of the child no longer phased them; short hair and dark-blue eyes, arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his features, Aomine glanced at them from beyond one of the crossroads, a ball of light spinning maddeningly on his finger. Bruises bloomed on his skin, knees scrapped raw and a jagged cut extending from the corner of his eyes to his chin, the effects of the curse stark and vivid.

“Why would that be, Aomine-kun?” Kuroko asked, already expecting the answer that was soon to come.

“Because I’m the Hermit[1],” the boy said, leveling a look at the two that clearly stated he was doubting their intelligence. “What kind of Hermit would I be if everyone came here whenever they wished to keep me company? He said I was to remain alone unless I managed to throw this ball through that hoop.”

Anger flared on Kuroko’s features, disdain at their enemy vivid for the briefest of seconds as he saw the hoop made of coalesced shadows floating tauntingly behind Aomine, high above ground. The cruelest of ironies, to take that which his friend loved most, the game he had invented, that he had taught to the others and twist it into a mockery of itself, a challenge that could not be completed, not while the curse kept him shackled. The same emotions burned in Kagami’s eyes, a tumultuous whirlwind that promised to burn everything in its path and he stepped forth, not stopping until he reached Aomine’s side. 

“I’ll help you,” he interjected, ignoring the child’s wide-eyed surprise and the instinctive refusal that was sure to come. “You won’t be able to do it otherwise.” He stepped behind Aomine, hands hovering over the child’s, magic flaring beneath his palms and into the dark-haired boy’s, a stance that was clearly familiar and long repeated that Kuroko wondered how it was he had not **_seen._** Light trickled softly, intimately so, a soft glow surrounding the ball, making it brighter, almost blinding to look at. Aomine concentrated, brows furrowing before launching it in the air, magic propelling it with ease, rising higher and higher and higher. The hoop trembled at its approach, shuddered and seemed to shrink upon itself, but Kagami’s magic froze it, tight ropes of light coiling around the shadowed mass, keeping it contained until the ball passed through.

Only then did the red-haired boy step back, the anger on his face morphing into satisfaction. Awe spread across Aomine’s features, sheer joy bursting where before was sorrow and he grinned, wide and content, gazing at them in gratitude.

“I did it!” Just as the words were uttered, the ball burst in columns of light, swirling maddeningly and engulfing Aomine in a blazing shield. Sparks crackled around him, power raw and untethered, golden brilliance making Kuroko and Kagami shield their eyes. A shout of anguish echoed in the maze, arms wrapping around himself in a futile effort of protection before the memories returned with a vengeance.

 

* * *

 

_The woman is petite, but strong, dark blue eyes blazing with fury at the man who has the audacity to shadow her doorstep, demanding the use of her powers for his cause. Her form is round, the child inside her kicking viciously, but even so power builds between her hands, a blistering tornado of light flaring with fury and before he knows it, the man is propelled backwards, dark hair hanging in his eyes and blood trickling down his face as he collides with the fence. Anger burns in his gaze, fury unbanked, but before he can even think of retaliating the woman’s magic flares again, electricity sizzling this time, scorching the ground at his feet. A warning he would do well to heed and the man does, turns on his tail and runs, not before vowing retribution._

_It is only long after he had left, when no trace of his presence can be felt in the vicinity of her house that she allows hands to fly to her belly, pain twisting her features as the contractions send spikes of pain in her body. She had always had the most wretched of timings and it seems her child does as well, impatient to come when he should have waited. She hollers for the midwife and staggers back inside, biting a curse at her husband’s oh so inconvenient trip to the nearby village._

* * *

_The man arrives hours after the child had been born, abashed and red with shame, hiding behind a bouquet of flowers, a flimsy shield from his wife’s ire. The woman snaps at him, matted hair shielding the forgiveness already forming in her eyes, but even so she allows him inside, offers him the small bundle residing in her arms. The child is soft and plump as all babes are, blue eyes peering curiously at his father, short strands of hair barely covering his head._

_“Daiki,” the woman whispers, giving voice to her husband’s unspoken question. “Daiki,” he nods, fingers curling gently around the babe’s own, a blinding grin stretching over his features as he settles on the bed next to his wife. A moment of peace and quiet never meant to last, though they have no way of knowing so._

 

* * *

 

_“Daiki,” his mother calls, voice fervent and urgent, fear stark on her features and he runs as fast as his four-year-old legs can towards here. “Quick, quick now,” she urges, settling the small satchel across his tiny shoulders and hoisting him on her hip, steps quickening the more distance she places behind herself and the house. There is blood on her hands, loss and horror blooming in her soul, but she has no time to pay it heed now, not when she needs to take her child to safety._

_Her husband is dead – murdered – their enemy hounding her steps and she runs, magic quickening her paces, walls of flame and ice left in her wake to thwart the one following them. She runs for days, or so it seems, runs until her lungs threaten to burst in her chest and her legs burn with exertion, but at long last she arrives where she wishes, comes across the old mansion and the mazes sprawling across its gardens, the one place she knows will offer her aid and protection._

* * *

 

_“He is after me, not him, because I slighted him,” the woman explains in a frantic voice, blue eyes brimming with tears as her hands shake on her cup of tea. Her friend listens in silence, solemn and saddened, anger flaring in her very being, but powerless to offer it an outlet. “He will not stop, no matter what. Please Haruka, I beg of you. Shield him. I cannot.”_

_“There is no need to beg,” the other whispers, gentle, pink eyes overflowing with tears. “You know that all too well. I will keep him safe until you are able to return. My late sister’s daughter is the same age as him. He will have a companion growing up. But I wish you would reconsider; I can protect you both.”_

_“You cannot. You do not know what he is capable of.”_

_It is mere hours later that she leaves, runs away in the dead of the night as her child lies asleep, limbs entangled with those of a pink haired girl that took a shine to his presence almost immediately. There is no illusion lingering in her soul; she will never get to return._

* * *

_“Dai-chan,” the girl hollers below, small feet echoing as she runs around the solarium, trying to catch a glimpse of the roof. “DAI-CHAN,” she calls louder and the boy sighs, rolls to the edge of the glass roof and glares below, asking in a mulish voice. “What is it Satsuki?”_

_“Aunt finished the hoop,” she grins, wide and bright, pink eyes brimming with delight, joy so contagious it spreads to him as well, especially when the weight of her words settles in his mind. He jumps in excitement, feet flinging him off the roof and magic offering him a smooth landing, hand grasping the girl’s smaller one and dragging her towards the farther edge of the gardens. Her aunt awaits them patiently, pink hair caught in a messy bun and face streaked with mud, a proud expression on her face as she points behind her._

_“What do you think, Daiki? Good enough?” she asks and the boy whoops in joy, a bright grin stretching over his features as a ball of light materializes in his hands._

_“Perfect! Thank you, Haruka-san!”_

_“Just call me aunt already. Jeez, this child!” the woman shakes her head in mock misery before moving to the side to watch his game._

* * *

_Teiko is a much-anticipated change in scenery, all spiraling stairs and glittering columns, a place where he can train his powers unrestrained. It is a challenge, perhaps, rooming with Kise and Midorima, between the first’s wide-eyed exuberance and the other’s gruff tolerance, but somehow, they manage, the first steps towards friendship paved in the hours spent before exams at the library and during the dead of the night when neither can stand still long enough, worry always at the forefront of their minds._

_They become archmanges as it is expected and his powers bloom, grow, fine tuned and controlled as never before. He flourishes under Teiko’s tutoring until he becomes too powerful even for them, his fellows throwing scared glances where before praises had been uttered. He tries to turn a blind eye to it and for a while it works, caught between the joy of having friends and the exhilarating sensation of practicing with Tetsu, combining their powers into something never seen before._

* * *

_They win their first Arcane Tournament and already it becomes too much, his powers a burden where before they had been a joy, the scorn and fear lingering in the eyes of his opponents disheartening and impossible to move past. It becomes easy, incredibly so, to fall prey to the whispers in his ears, to surrender himself to the poisoned darkness coiling around his soul._

_“Are you afraid of me, Tetsu?” he asks and fears the answer, but even though the blue haired boy dispels his worries, the fear still linger. ‘You may not be afraid of me right now, but one way you will be,’ seems to echo in his mind, a promise of a future he dreads to see._

* * *

 

The light blinked out of existence, columns dissolving into nothingness; Aomine stood in front of them, older, confusion swirling in his dark blue gaze, hands curled into fists at his side and magic crackling across his knuckles.

 “Tetsu?” he asked in surprise.

Before either Kuroko or Kagami had the chance to answer, an earthquake rippled across the maze, its forced pushing them all to the ground. The earth cracked and rumbled, branches snapping above their heads, burying them in a layer of leaves. When the trembling stopped, the dreamscape had changed, the maze pushed aside to reveal yet another piece of Teiko, the dueling grounds where the Arcane Tournaments were held.

Aomine too, had vanished.

* * *

 

[1] The Hermit ( major arcana ): Bitterness, loneliness,


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The earth grumbled, roared, earthquakes howling beneath their feet, the soil shifting and stretching, cavernous doorways to the abyss opening under their feet, the explosion, an elementalist’s futile attempt at survival, merely an echo preserved in the tight woven webs of the dreamscape. It was perhaps telling that Aomine’s dreamscape had started with destruction before smoothing over to stillness, the ravaged expanse of the dueling grounds giving way to smooth terrain and obstacle courses that challenged all of them during the Arcane Tournaments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asdghhjkl I am so, so very sorry guys! This update came very late and all I can say is that Aomine continued being a headache, Kagami had been keeping secrets from me and I kind of fell into the trap of watching Hunterxhunter and dying over it. Seriously that show is murder and a blessing all in one! 
> 
> A huge, huge shout out to my amazing friends @DeyaniraSan and Arte without whose support, patience and much appreciated pestering, this chapter would probably not have happened anytime soon, if at all. Thank you so much, guys!

“Perhaps out of all specializations, it is the history of Knight Enchanters that remained best preserved in book and lore. Legend though it might be, a grain of truth hides at its core, the story of their beginning etched in ink on parchment and romanticized through the ages. The tale speaks of a knight, honest and just, a beacon of shining light offering hope in a tremulous, dark time. One day, as he wandered the lands, the knight got caught in a skirmish, a fight between bandits and a caravan of travelling folk. The nomads were all out of their caravans, daggers brandished, wooden staves held tightly in their hands, channeling the raw magic of the earth beneath their feet; but even so, they were outnumbered, arrows whizzing past their shields, rough swords cutting through their defense.

The knight did not hesitate; he jumped into the fray, sword unsheathed, cutting through the enemies with merciless frenzy. In the onslaught that followed, historians are hard pressed to say what could have happened. Perhaps a stray spell from one of the nomad mages hit the knight, unlocked that which remained locked in his core. Perhaps the earth itself bestowed its blessing upon the knight, thanking him that he was protecting those that followed its creed. The result remains the same; fire started burning along the knight’s sword, energy building in his hands and when he struck, magic sung in his veins as it never had before.

The bandits fled in terror. No longer were they fighting against travelers that barely knew how to wield arms, by mages still building their strength. No, they were now faced with a force of nature, deadly in his sword wielding, innate talent teaching him what others took years to learn.  **_And he was terrible in his fury._ **

And so, Knight Enchanters were born; warriors learning the secrets of the arcane, magic suffused in steel blades and weapons of pure energy bursting from their hands, forces of nature best built for combat.” ( Tales from the fringes of our world by Cleric Kimura )

* * *

**In the long-forgotten past**

**1.** Pale hands shook on the recently opened letter, blue eyes boring holes in the already crumpled parchment, as if wishing to engrain the letters in his mind without actually daring to read them. He could not find it in himself to blame Ogiwara for opening the letter before he had had the chance to know of its existence, for having the courage to discover their teacher’s message when he staggered and trembled in face of the flimsy piece of parchment.

“Better get it done with, Tetsu,” Aomine cautioned gently from the side, his newly returned presence a much-welcomed pillar of strength. “No use dawdling.”

“Aominecchi is right,” Kise interjected, legs folded under himself and leaning against the bed frame. They had all gathered in his room, brimming with curiosity and apprehension, quicksilver all of them, tapping feet in impatience and drumming fingers on every surface available. Only Ogiwara stood silent and transfixed, eyes glued to everywhere and nowhere at all, numb to all happening around him once the desperation and fear had bled him of all energy.

“Whatever has happened, we will deal with it. As we have done before,” and it was perhaps Kagami’s words that gave him the last boost of strength, his unwavering conviction the catalyst to unlocking his fingers and gently prying the parchment from the envelope.

 

**2.** _ “My dear Tetsuya, _

_ I had hoped to reach to you, after all this years, will good tidings and hopeful words. In an ideal world, I would have told of you of the success of my mission, of the victory of our Order, of our enemies all vanquished and scattered to the four winds. In an ideal world, I would have told you how proud I am of how far you have come, how much Hara’s depiction of your strength gladdened my soul. How I could have never chosen a better apprentice than you. _

_ But we do not live in an ideal world and the both of us know this. _

_ I do not wish to sound callous. My regard for you remains unchanged, my dear apprentice, and perhaps you best of all know all the words I have not uttered. But, we do not have the time now to linger over them. I shall have to be blunt. Never before have we ever beat around the bush and it is not the time to start now. _

_ Hara is dead. Felled as many before him, betrayed by those in which he put his trust. His body remains even now unburied, lost in the deserts, claimed by nature and no other. The pilgrimage he was meant to lead was but a ruse, a smoke screen that allowed the enemy to overwhelm him. My arrival came too late, my aid rendered useless by the delay that cost him his life. _

_ I will continue my mission. If time allows, I would like to make my way back to you, to Teiko, to impart some knowledge of our order that neither I nor Hara had the chance to share with you yet. I would like to make promises that we may one day see each other again, but I cannot. _

_ The enemy is strong, Tetsuya, and we are few, too few. I fear that our power will not be enough to stop him. _

_ Train, dear one. Train and learn as much as you can. Even without Hara, Teiko is the best place I could have sent you to, the only place where your powers can grow without barriers holding them down. I fear that one day it will all rest on your shoulders. _

_ I am sorry. This is not a fate I would have bestowed upon anyone, let alone my precious apprentice. Trust in yourself and your friends.  _

_ I wish fate will be kind enough to allow me to see you and Shigehiro again.  _

_ Until then, may the gods keep you in their grace.” _

**3.** Silence reigned for several moments after the letter was read out loud, the last echoes of speech having long died in the stillness of the room. Even the fidgeting came to an end, the restless energy that had seemed to animate all of them till then turning into a frozen state of uncertainty. There was precious little they had gained from reading the letter, apart from learning that Hara, a much-cherished tutor of Teiko was dead. Their enemy remained elusive still, a mystery wrapped in a riddle that some seemed to know the answer to, but none wished to impart it. And though Kuroko’s teacher appeared hell-bent on apprehending the unknown danger, he had not seen fit to impart his findings with them.

“Well, that was useless,” Kagami groaned, arms stretching behind his back, eyes narrowed in futile contemplation. “No offense to your teacher, Kuroko, but he could have given us some hints, if nothing else.”

“It pains me to agree with Kagami, but he is right Kuroko,” Midorima interjected, fingers moving to better straighten the spectacles over his nose. “His missive has shared precious little that we do not know. An enemy has already breached these borders, be it the same or another. It does not surprise me that the teachers of the academy have been targeted.”

“Kurokocchi, perhaps it would be best if we knew more about the order he is talking about,” Kise intervened gently, hands moving to pry away Kuroko’s fingers from the death grip he already had on the parchment. “I know you do not wish to speak until the rest are returned to us, but we are running out of time it appears.” 

“He is right, Kuroko,” Ogiwara too broke his self-imposed silence, features contorting in a mask of grief, a grim acceptance of a dire fate looming at the horizon. “Perhaps, we no longer have the luxury. If… if the Order is dwindling, soon they will come here.”

“I…” and there was hesitation there, a betrayal he did not wish to contemplate, but the choice was escaping his grasp, a decision he was loath to make when he was close, so close to bringing back all his friends, to sharing the truth with them all. “I will think upon this matter. I can promise no more at the moment.”

**4.** Murasakibara did not approach them as the others had done; his presence was still standoffish, a looming giant hiding in the shadows of Teiko, a purple specter appearing now and then, but never lingering for long, always anger and longing twisting maddeningly in his gaze. He did not burst in the room, like Kise had done, demands falling from unchecked words, nor did he offer challenges, like Midorima, like Aomine, bait words meant to enrage the others. He merely watched, gaze narrowed, a safe distance put between him and the others even as his body shivered, trembled, ached with the desire to be closer, while at the same time battering with the resolution to keep them safe. A maelstrom of conflicting emotions giving life to winds in his path, to hurricanes that tore through the hallways, shattered windows and cracked walls lingering in their wake. 

“He will not come,” Himuro whispered softly to his brother, leaning against the window frame, a familiar deeply ingrained movement, his body twisted sideways as if turned towards someone who was no longer there. “He knows more than the others,” he added though he refuses to reveal more. No matter how much Kagami had prodded, his brother had remained silent on the matter of his parting from Murasakibara, on the event that had made the two separate so thoroughly. Even now, it seemed, Himuro remained loathe to admit what had gone wrong.

“He will not challenge you, not like the others. He will claim it is too bothersome perhaps, or he will simply stay away. You need to be the make the first step,” Himuro explained, stepping away from the window, a weight settled over his shoulders, one that had been less obvious before. Longing gazes cast across darkened hallways, fingers twisting nervously in his robe, a promise made that he did not wish to break, though he longs to do so. “Take Kuroko with you when you do or allow him to challenge Murasakibara. Something tells me our shadow mage friend will know exactly what to say to bait Atsuhi.”

**5.** “Of all of us, Murasakibara was the only one to notice something was wrong,” Midorima told them later, guilt underlining his words, a world of anguish in his eyes as his gaze did not stray from Takao’s presence, the raven-haired boy pouring over an essay in the silence of the library. “He hurt Himuro, it is true, but he also kept the presence of mind to turn him away as to not hurt him further, to protect that which was most precious to him. As we did not…” 

He twisted towards the window, gaze drifting in the distance, a pondering look upon his face as he added. “Murasakibara is not as simple as he appears at a first glance. It will not be easy to make him break his resolution. But Aquarius is first today, so if anything, it is an auspicious day to try.” A small bundle was offered suddenly, a tiny satchel made of canvas, the barest hint of lavender drifting in the air. “Your lucky item for today. Best be on your way, Kuroko.”

And perhaps it was unnecessary, a blessing he did not even believe in, but Kuroko took the bundle nonetheless, cradled it gently, before leaving the library with hurried steps, light blue eyes blazing with determination. He made his way to the kitchens, to the place he knew he could find Murasakibara hiding, Kagami a frantic presence hounding his steps.

Shadows swirled beneath his feet as he walked, restless, driven, a mass of darkness answering to the call of their master’s heart, pushing the doors open before Kuroko even had the chance to touch them. Blue eyes bore into startled purple, winds already battering between them as Murasakibara cast aside his stupor, the shock of before replaced with stony determination.

“Murasakibara-kun,” Kuroko whispered, a single word coated in a challenge.

**6.** Murasakibara frowned, a pinched expression twisting his features. Kuro-chin was there all of a sudden, soft, fragile Kuro-chin that was so much stronger than all of them could ever hope to be, but at the same time weak enough that a burst of erratic, uncontrolled wind on his part could crush him. Kuro-chin that he wished to protect, while at the same time being unable to silence the whispers that compelled him to ruin the blue haired boy. 

He rose to his feet before he even had the chance to comprehend his motions, movements strange as all that led him nowadays, body taut with brimming energy, crackling around him in fluttering gusts that gained momentum with each passing moment, a whirlwind of destruction in nascent form. Anger was brimming under his skin, burning in his veins, pushing his reluctant magic to the surface, foreign, strange, wrong, a power that was his but not his at the same time, a corruption he felt keenly but was unable to make sense of. He hated it, this anger coursing through him, this bubbling darkness forcing aside the well fitted mantle of apathy he had worn for so long, coating him in garments or rage and red hazes, of violence and destruction, a cloth that fit him ill, distorting all that he had ever been. 

“Kuro-chin needs to leave otherwise I will crush him,” his voice was tense, tight, an undercurrent of desperation, of thinly veiled fear suffused in his words even as the winds started moving away from him, closer, closer pushing towards the blue haired mage. “I do not want to crush Kuro-chin.” 

And before the other had the chance to react, the winds burst, a hurricane building up momentum in the span of seconds, the force of the hit splintering the shadowy shield that was erected from Kuroko’s fingers. A blast made to maim, to wound and perhaps it would have ended up doing so had light not flared around Kuroko, a cocoon of protection leaving him nearly unharmed in wake of the attack.

“Kuro-chin,” Murasakibara uttered through clenched teeth, anguish stark in the simple word, “Kuro-chin, leave.”

“I will not,” Kuroko held his ground stubbornly, “And if I do, I shall return.” Unsaid words echoed between the two of them, understanding shared as it had not been done with the others. It was a cruel fate, Kuroko mused, to be as aware of Murasakibara was of the curse, while being powerless to counter it.

“I will make Kuro-chin. I will crush Kuro-chin and Kaga-chin in this duel you wish and I will be left alone,” the purple hair mage seethed.

**7.** “Thank you, Kagami-kun, for your aid,” the simple, pleasant show of gratitude as if Kagami had offered him help with an essay made his guardian shake his head in frustration, hands moving to wrap gauze around the wounds Kuroko had been hiding till then. A graze on his arm, narrow, yet deep, where shards of the shield had cut through cloth and skin. Bruises on his hands where the shadowed shield had splintered beneath them. A scratch, above his left temple, blood having stopped trickling at long last. 

“That hit would have made mincemeat out of you had I not interfered. Even with my aid, you did not get out of that unscathed,” the other mage snapped, annoyance stark on his features, his hands still gentle despite the clear exasperation exuding from his voice. “Why would you not wait for me?”

“I trusted in Kagami-kun’s timely arrival,” the blue haired boy stated simply. “And I never doubted you would act in time if the worst came to happen. And I was right, was I not?”

Kagami huffed, eyes still narrowed in annoyance, yet he could not help but nod dejectedly, the other’s words a show of trust he had not perhaps expected. At least not yet…

* * *

 

**In the uncertain present**

In a different world, it would have been interesting, he supposed, to see what parts of Teiko had drawn each of them, a study in contrasts that brought to the forefront that which made them so intrinsically different, while at the same time showcasing that which brought them together. A glimpse in his friends’ minds, a peak’s eye in their safe corners and it would have been intriguing had it not been so gut wrenchingly sad, sanctuaries twisted and warped by their enemy, that which should have been peace turned into a mockery of itself, jagged pieces of memories that once brimmed with happiness crumbling onto themselves under the onslaught of the curse.

The earth grumbled, roared, earthquakes howling beneath their feet, the soil shifting and stretching, cavernous doorways to the abyss opening under their feet, the explosion, an elementalist’s futile attempt at survival, merely an echo preserved in the tight woven webs of the dreamscape. It was perhaps telling that Aomine’s dreamscape had started with destruction before smoothing over to stillness, the ravaged expanse of the dueling grounds giving way to smooth terrain and obstacle courses that challenged all of them during the Arcane Tournaments. 

“I went after him,” Kuroko admitted, eyes brimming with anger at the almost shameful admission, fists turning white as nails bit into his palms. “I went after our enemy. I knew I could not hope to defeat him. I knew the curse was yet too strong. And still…”

“You hoped you would be able to break it,” Kagami interjected softly, a large hand settling on Kuroko’s shoulders in silent reassurance. “You hoped you would be able to break this. Keep them from suffering further by shattering the core of the curse.”

“It was foolish.”

“It was,” the guardian mage did not bother beating around the bush. “It was downright stupid, something Aho would have done perhaps. But, I cannot blame you for it. Had Shige and I not been bound, by both the curse and our promise, we might have done the same.”

The earth shook again, fire spewed from its depth as the outer layer cracked and bleed out ash and molten lava, their presence of mind the only salvation in face of the destruction occurring around them. There was another question wrapped in the destruction of the dueling grounds, another riddle waiting to be unfolded, as memories battered at the forefront of his mind. Again and again, with each dreamscape passing, he wondered whether it was his recollection that had been warped or whether the destruction was so thorough, a total annihilation of what they had loved and subsequently lost. 

A ball of light whirred through the air, its trajectory perfect and habit kicked in, a deeply ingrained familiarity that made Kuroko raise his hand and catch the spinning sphere mid flight. Aomine gazed at him from the short distance, his presence no longer obscured by the choking smoke once the dreamscape had again settled into itself. The same shadowy hoop lingered above his head, tantalizing and mocking, a quivering mass of darkness tainting precious memories of days spent tossing and throwing in the relative quiet of the grounds.

“Tetsu,” Aomine’s voice was stretched thin, the word uttered through clenched teeth, anger he could not understand burning in blue eyes, light sizzling around his fingers as he twitched and trembled in place. “What happened? What did we do?” Kuroko hated hearing such desperation in his friend’s voice, an undeserved sense of guilt permeating from his barely hidden fear. It was not Aomine’s fault; it had not been there and it was not now, but the other would have to unlock his memories to remember. 

“There are things you have forgotten, Aomine-kun,” the shadow mage explained, hands settling over the ball of light in a familiar pattern.

“Then make me remember,” the other demanded. Their gazes met, determination burning the same and Kuroko nodded, hands moving out of their own accord, twisting into a pose that had baffled their friends many a time in the past. The ball soared out of his hands, blinking out of existence even as the three mages sought to follow its trajectory, appearing briefly for a single moment before effortlessly falling through the shadowed hoop. The mass of darkness writhed, expanded and constricted into itself, a suddenly formless entity losing its powers. As it died out, light burst from the ground, engulfing Aomine in a shield of blazing brilliance, a keening sound echoing on the training grounds as the force of the memories forced him to his knees.

* * *

_ It is easy, so easy to succumb to the poison dripped in his ears with each shadowy whisper. Already his peers fear him, hate him, magic stilling at his approach, backs turned, a refusal to duel him before they can even start, a surrender he hates more than anything. There is none that can match him, none that dares, the Arcane Tournaments an exercise in futility when already their victory is assured. He retains a small glimmer of hope, Inoue’s unexpected appearance an attempt to turn things back to what they had been. But the other proves to be as disappointing as all the rest, a coward huddling in fear, the same submissive look tainting his gaze. _

_ “I don’t think you realize how much of a monster you truly are,” Inoue whispers, contempt dripping with each of his words, poisoned barbs that do nothing more than twist the coils of darkness even stronger around Aomine’s soul.  _

_ What comes next is easy, incredibly so. A total surrender he does not even understand, but one that takes over him completely. Blue eyes blazing with arrogance as a haughty smile flares on his features. “I’m sorry, Tetsu. It seems… the only one who can beat me is me.” _

 

* * *

__

_ It continues for a year. Perhaps more or perhaps less; the passage of time becomes an obscurity to him, a meaningless piece of information he pays no attention to. Satsuki comes and goes, always concerned, always begging, her joyful cries of Dai-chan turning into raging yells of Aomine-kun, disappointment flaring bright in pink orbs and perhaps he should care, but he finds nothing in himself that allows him to do so. His guardian writes, Haruka’s letters a jumble of concern and admonishments, her words stirring something deep down in his soul, a sense of shame that would have been important before the dark haze of boredom took over completely.  _

_ Nothing happens, nothing changes. Merely a maelstrom of dissatisfaction and petty actions mingling into each other with no beginning and no end, a symphony of monotony he cares little for. _

_ Nothing changes… until something does. _

_ The newcomer’s presence is light, sheer, brilliant light almost blinding to look at and for a moment Aomine staggers, stops, eyes narrowing in curiosity as he feels the waves of magic bleeding from the other, hears his determination, his laughter at the challenges posed by Kise, by Midorima.  _

_ For a moment, the blue haired mage allows himself to hope, a tiny seed of light pushing at the darkness, chipping at the corruption whose claws have dug tightly into his soul. He hopes and poses his own challenge… _

_ But that hope proves to be futile as Kagami fails to rise to the challenge. _

* * *

__

_ ‘Your light is dim,’ he says and perhaps the first time he is correct. However, he does not expect to be proved wrong the second time. Kagami shines brighter than ever before, an easy-going challenge in his eyes and determination overflowing as his magic meets Aomine’s in a clash of tremendous power, as the ground shakes around them and the ones that peered at him in fright chitter now in delight. He loses himself in the battle, this duel that is so much more than anything he had ever experienced before, the sizzle of magic ringing in the air and the scent of ozone burn overwhelming his senses.  _

_ He does not understand that which had kept him tight in its grasp until the end, losing himself in the rush as he does, a smile flaring on his features, growing larger and larger with each spell met, with each shield raised, with each curse returned. He does not understand until the very end, when the brilliance of Kagami’s last spell flares in the dueling chamber, when the shadows wielded by Tetsu disperse the cobwebs in his mind thoroughly and forever.  _

_ Only then, with the memories of the last year battering at his mind with a vengeance, with the apathy of boredom cast away from his soul, with the curse truly dispelled, does he understand what had happened. And when he does he burns, hot red anger flaring over his vision, the desire to rip apart those that had made fools of all of them burning in his veins. _

_ Tetsu snaps him out of his rage, the simple greeting, ‘Welcome back, Aomine-kun,’ pushing the anger aside, replacing it with shame and guilt. He will have his revenge over those that had turned him into a mindless puppet; but first, he has amends to make.  _

* * *

__

_ It is easy to fall back into the easy-going routine he had had with his friends, to banter and laugh as if nothing had happened. It is harder still to ignore the two empty spaces at their side, to pretend they do not hear the silence where once has been words, the loss where once had been kinship and joy. He trusts in Tetsu to bring the others back and once he does, he trusts in all of them to get to the bottom of all that had occurred, to find the ones that had wronged them so. _

_ He does not expect however, to discover how much he enjoys Kagami’s presence, be it simply riling him up or partaking in the many practice duels they seem to easily fall into a pattern of. The other is all bluster and bravado, a love for magic surpassed only by the deep loyalty he holds for the ones he considers friends, a kindred spirit and a stubborn fool all in one. Little by little he discovers the many layers that form Kagami Taiga, the nuances the other cannot hide to save his life, his blunt sincerity that is as much as a blessing as it is a curse. He does not notice however, the lingering gazes following him when they part after one of their duels, the small, wistful smiles on Kagami’s face, the deprecative sighs that echo when none is listening, the rueful acceptance and longing battling for dominion in the other’s gaze whenever the two of them are close. _

_ This is perhaps the reason why he is so confused when Kagami starts retreating, duels postponed, once, twice, three times, an apprehension to be in close quarters to Aomine that had not been there before. He is confused and he is hurt, unable to understand what might have happened while at the same time reluctant to challenge the other, to demand answers where none had been given. It goes on and on, a circle of hurt and doubt that they seem unable to break until Shigehiro intervenes. _

* * *

__

_ Shigehiro had been an elusive presence to him till then; Aomine knew him as Tetsu’s friend but nothing more, a brown-haired whirlwind, younger than them, allowed at Teiko for reasons unknown, a mystery kept tightly between the shadow mage and his tutors, a presence that would had been baffling had he been more visible in their midst. As they grew further apart, Shigehiro became more visible, always with condemnation in his eyes, protecting others from their viciousness, a stalwart presence that was as quick to anger as he was to sooth. Vicious barbs flew from his lips and quick spells shot from his fingers, meeting their own petty magic midair, changing its course, sometimes taking it upon himself. Even caught deep in the claws of the curse Aomine had wondered and not only once how was it that one with such a driven heart was more suited for the Elementalist pursuits as opposed to the paths of the Knight Enchanter. Later, as Tetsu explained Shigehiro’s true path in his dealings with the Arcane, Aomine had understood.  _

_ So, it is to his surprise that the brown-haired mage has noticed something amiss when the others had not, all too caught up in their plans for the future to be able to pay attention to the matters of the present. Shigehiro appears out of nowhere, features caught in a frown, attention riveted on the adjacent room as if it keeps the answers to some mystery of great importance. He ruffles his hair in an absent-minded motion, feet shifting under him and before Aomine has the chance to ask what is the matter, he apologizes, hands rising in a motion swifter than ever before, a column of earth bursting from the ground and propelling Aomine in the room with brutal efficiency, the door slamming shut behind him. _

_ Muddled cries come from inside the room, a sort of annoyed desperation that makes Aomine curious to see what might be hiding inside, before turning him into a howling mess as he doubles over in laughter. Kagami stands tied up from head to toe, a gag muffling his shouts, red eyes narrowed in anger as he glares at Aomine with fury, demanding to be left loose in silent frustration. _

_ “I am going to kill Shige,” Kagami seethes once he is loose, eyes not meeting Aomine’s and once again the blue haired mage is reminded of the chasm building between them, the distance he has no way of bridging long as he does not know what causes it.  _

_ They try the door, but it is of course locked, a shimmering barrier blocking them effectively inside, their attempts to render it undone coming to no fruition. At all times Kagami shies away from his presence, clipped, waspish words keeping him at bay, an effective method of pushing him away until he has had enough. Aomine whirls, one hand slamming Kagami in the door, while the other brackets him at the side, blue eyes furious even as the other gazes at him in disbelief. _

_ “Are you going to beat around the bush much longer or are you going to tell me what the fuck’s got your knickers in a twist?” He feels Kagami’s heartbeat skip under his hand, before mounting speed, a rabbity echo beating in his ribcage with fury. Their eyes finally lock and there is a swarm of emotion warring in Kagami’s gaze, terror and apprehension and something else, a feeling Aomine cannot discern, all warring for attention. It makes his frustration mount even further, this fear shimmering in his – rival? friend? – ‘s gaze, this foreign entity that had no right to muddle with the other’s thoughts and actions. “Well?” _

_ Kagami’s features scrunch in a twisted expression of self-loathing, the same fear of before now stark on his features, hysterical laughter bubbling past his lips as he looks at Aomine challengingly, a maddened desperation taking place, hands pressing down on the blue haired mage’s chest, ready to push him away. “I’m in love with you,” he shouts bitterly, despair palpable in his words, even as the barrier now raised continues to allow the words to flow. “I love you ok and it fucking hurts! To be in the same room with you, to be nearby and constantly reminded that you could not possible feel the same!” _

_ The world stills. Blue eyes widen in disbelief, Aomine doing his best impression of a gaping fish as he stares at Kagami, the emotions of before having bleed from his face, replaced only with silent resignation. The other’s chest heaves, breathing shallow and laborious, his heart beating madly underneath Aomine’s still stretched palm, but his arms have fallen, resting uselessly at his side, his entire posture the one of a condemned waiting for death to come. _

_ “You have no idea, do you?” the words come in a soft whisper, forced past unwilling lips, gaze lowered to the ground as Kagami starts speaking once more. “How arresting you are. How much you shine. I liked what we had, this easy-going camaraderie, our duels. I would have held onto it forever. But it was too much and not enough at the same time. And it was easier to make it stop than live with the knowledge you hated me were I to confess.” _

_ Oh… _

_ Oh… _

_ Perhaps he should have seen it; the signs had been there he supposes, but Aomine had been too caught in the rush of magic, in returning back to himself, his senses rightened and his passion for magic flaring anew, that he had been blind to everything else. And it was easy, so very easy, with the words still lingering between them, with the other’s fear still visible in his hunched shoulders and his too wide eyes, to mull over his own thoughts, feelings, emotions.  _

_ “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Aomine sighs, amusement echoed in his words, a beckoning smirk flaring on his features as he draws closer. “Idiotic Bakagami. Stop being a martyr and assuming shit. Ask!” The hand lying on Kagami’s chest fists in his robes, draws him closer, the moment of surprised disbelief blowing the guardian mage’s eyes wide open, before their lips clash together, a sloppy, messy kiss that quickly morphs into a challenge, a battle for dominion between the two until they are left breathless and panting, putting too much pressure against the door whose barrier dissolves out of a sudden, the wooden slate blowing open and bringing them crashing to the ground. _

_ “I assume you solved matters?” Shigehiro asks laughingly, brown eyes dancing with mirth as he gazes at them, Aomine sprawled upon Kagami on the marble floor, lips swollen and hair askew. _

* * *

__

_ They do not share the recent development with the others; perhaps it is greed, the desire to steal some moments only for themselves, to bask in each other’s presence uninterrupted. Perhaps it is caution, the knowledge that their enemy still lingers within the confines of Teiko, eager to hurt them once more, to use whatever means at his disposal to launch a new attack. So, they remain silent, Shigehiro their only confidant, his brown eyes and cheeky smile softening at their decision, understanding stealing over his features as he nods silently. _

_ He does not know if it was the right decision. He does not know if it was the wrong one either. But somehow, it works for them, even as the others return to themselves, even as the dark webs of the curse are slowly dismantled one by one. _

_ And then Nigou is attacked. _

_ He is with Tetsu when it happens, the pained howl reverberating through the entirety of Teiko, windows shuddering with its fury. He is with Tetsu when the other stills, blue eyes wide with fear before a shift occurs, fury building in the teal gaze, the shadows at his command flaring to life, a writhing mass of darkness stretching further and further in a maddened frenzy, its powers as haywire as their master’s emotions.  _

_ He is scared in that moment; scared of and for his friend, scared of this oppressive darkness clogging his airways, of the looming shadows towering over him, sweat building at his temples as his heart skips a beat and another, choking terror grasping him tight in its grasp, a fear unlike any other for which he has no name or no reason, merely the knowledge of its existence. Tetsu burns with rage, a cold, murderous anger that leads his steps forth, feet almost gliding above the carpet of darkness, boots creating nary an echo on the cobbled hallways drowned in the shadowy mass. _

_ They find Nigou outside, a puppet with its strings cut, legs twisted and fur matted with blood, a gleaming, onyx knife driven in his heart. His blue eyes are still wide, unseeing, blood pooling over the still form and Tetsu falls on his knees next to him. A howl is ripped from his throat, a keening wail of desperation and for a moment his blue eyes turn dark, pitch black, a fearsome abyss that gazes everywhere and nowhere at all, the fury of the other side banking in his gaze. _

_ “Tetsuya,” Akashi appears out of nowhere, the simple word a soothing caress, Tetsu’s attention broken from the cooling corpse of his hound, turning towards their red-haired leader. Time stills for a moment, indecision flaring on the shadow mage’s face, before the spell is broken, dark orbs reverting back to their natural light blue shade, features twisting in abject misery as his shoulders slump, tears rolling down his cheeks unbidden. He is a canvas of sorrow and misery, unforeseen loss coated in despair and Akashi closes his arms around him, brings him near and allows him to weep, dirt and blood staining their robes as they linger on the tainted ground. _

_ Kagami appears soon after, body ablaze with brimming light, magic flowing from his fingertips as he dispels the lingering shadows, his own features twisted in a mask of rage and sorrow. He lingers close to Aomine, shoulders brushing and their meeting gazes speak of the same thing: the desire to rip apart the one who  _ **_dared._ ** __

* * *

__

_ They find the culprit; it was just a matter of time now that they had all been returned to themselves. A pawn nothing more, a puppet whose strings were drawn by an unseen master puppeteer, cruelty and victory mingling on his face in equal measure even as he flees, the Headmaster’s booming words keeping them all in check, refraining them from giving chase. _

_ ( Aomine would want to; he would delight in catching the other and rendering him unmade, taking his sweet time until he offers their enemy the oblivion he would soon come to crave, but he cannot, steps halted by the Headmaster’s command. Kagami would also want to, his tempestuous lover a quivering mess at his side, gaze furibund and eyes set alight by a maddened red haze. ) _

_ Neither of them moves; it is Takao that springs forth, hands alight with magic, spells raining with a fury unfamiliar for the dark-haired boy, his bitterness over the way their enemy had sundered his bond with Midorima, even if for a short time, palpable in frenzy of curses falling from his lips. It is Shigehiro that moves after Takao has spent all his strength, dark masses of shadows springing forth at his command, onyx spears and obsidian daggers gleaming in the penumbra, just waiting to be unleashed, a clear sign of what the other is, a mystery unraveled at last. _

_ “Ogiwara-kun,” Tetsu intervenes, voice cold and disapproving, blue eyes riveted on the brown-haired boy’s spell before it has time to take flight. Shigehiro lowers his head in shame, brown eyes contrite yet not regretful, the shadows dispersed at a simple wave of his hand. _

_ “I apologize, Master,” the brown-haired boy mutters petulantly, watching with narrowed gaze as their enemy flees the premise of Teiko, cackling laughter echoing behind him. _

* * *

__

_ When Akashi comes up with the idea of a spirit bond, he already expects the others to disapprove. It is intimate, personal magic that ties people together on a unique plain, an insight offered in minds and souls as nothing else offers apart from soulbinds. There would be no room for regrets once such a bond would be completed, no turning back. Unbreakable, untaintable, it is complete surrender and the utmost of trust.  _

_ Perhaps he should stop being surprised by Kagami, but even so he is startled to hear the other speak, his agreement as unexpected as is his approval of Akashi’s plan. “No need to look so surprised. I’m not that dumb not to agree with a good plan even if it comes from scissor hands there,” Kagami huffs in annoyance, and Aomine cannot keep himself from snorting, amusement bringing a ray of light in an otherwise grim affair. Little by little all the others agree, their own motivations coming to life. _

_ “Tetsu is already protected by his magic. But there’s nothing protecting him from ours if we fall prey to him again. I agree with the plan; we can’t rely on Bakagami to snap us out of it again, even if we go with the idea that he will be able to do so a second time,” he says, guilt coating his words even as he brims with determination, an unseen nod of approval coming from Kagami at his words. _

_ It is a decision they all make. It is perhaps the decision that sealed their fates. _

* * *

__

_ The Headmaster dies and what they had feared comes to pass. War runs unchecked across the lands, the victims mounting, dozens, hundreds, thousands, the enemy’s armies drawing ever nearer to Teiko. Their friends prepare to depart for their homelands, shadows growing in Midorima’s eyes, in Kise’s, in Murasakibara’s, as their loved ones leave for a war none might return from, as they steel themselves for the inevitable fate awaiting them all. Scars appear in their palms, blood oaths made and sealed, bonds flaring between them that do nothing to keep at bay the terror they all fear.  _

_ Haruka’s letter arrives before he and Satsuki can even stop arguing, both wishing to head towards their homeland to check all is well, both being unable to agree with the other’s departure.  _

_ “You need to remain here, Dai-chan!” Satsuki shouts stubbornly, pink hair falling in her eyes, obscuring a gaze that is plagued by fear and desperation.  “All the others understand that. Why can’t you?” _

_ “You’re an Alchemist, Satsuki,” he retorts derisively, features twisted in a frown, trying to hide the concern plaguing his soul. “You cannot even hope to stand a chance in face of the enemy’s forces.” _

_ “I can’t just leave her there alone! She’s my aunt,” the girl shrieks, but is startled by Aomine’s outburst that comes almost at the same time, no less passionate. _

_ “She’s like my mother!” He stops, eyes wide at the unwilling admission, a flush of embarrassment stealing over his features as his gaze shifts elsewhere. “I don’t remember mother, Satsuki, not anymore. All I remember is Haruka, her smiles, her soothing touch. Haruka, lulling me to sleep when nightmares plagued me and building hoops for me when I ruined the previous ones. I can’t just sit here, idle, sacrificing the both of you to a madman’s bid for power. ” _

_ It is then that the falcon appears, a petulant bird bursting through the open window, leg stretched with a message, golden gaze trained on them in rueful resignation. A falcon they both knew since childhood, its presence startling, but no less welcome. _

**_‘Do not come for me!’_ **

_ Haruka’s letter starts with an order, handwriting neat and careful, no splash of ink, no tremble of hand betraying a hidden enemy forcing her to write such words. _

_ ‘I mean it, Daiki! Satsuki make sure to keep the stubborn idiot there! I have hidden our home, buried it under the veins and the plants growing in our greenhouse. The mansion cannot be found anymore, not if one does not know how to search for it. Greenery stretches far and wide, my precious plants stalwart soldiers to keep these monsters at bay. Perhaps, if you are to be successful, we will return there. But for now it is gone and going in search for it will do you no good. I have locked it for the two of you as well. _

_ I have run before the enemy could come, my dear children. Do not worry for me! Do not come to seek me out. I will be fine. A herbalist cannot be defeated in the nature that gives her strength. The truest danger is coming your way. _

_ Be wary and be brave! I love you both so very much. _

_ May the gods bless us by allowing us to meet again one day, in kinder times. _

_ Love, _

_ Your aunt ( yes yours too Daiki ), _

**_Haruka_ ** _ ’ _

_ They acquiesce to her demand; how could they not? Around them the world falls to ruin and chaos, the vanguard summoned to meet the enemy’s armies falling to its demise, blood and ash turning the land into a desolation, the last vestiges of life erased without remorse.  _

_ In the relative safety of Teiko, sheltered by the confines of the stone walls, they prepare a desperate last stand. _

* * *

__

_ The standstill is broken by death.  _

_ Kasamatsu dies and Kise grieves, his fury sorrowful and palpable, tears staining golden eyes as electricity sizzles around his fingers, scorching the walls as he walks. Takao dies and Midorima mourns, a cold, deep seated anger building in his soul, giving life to bursts of vicious wind in his wake, shattering doors and windows, rendering the statues of Teiko unmade. Himuro dies and Murasakibara rages, fury burning in his veins, hurricanes brought to life with each steps he takes, a chaos of destruction hounding him wherever he goes.  _

_ The others vow revenge and he echoes their feeling in his soul, blue eyes blazing with the same fury, the same desire for retribution. Come hell or high water, their enemy would pay. They would all makes sure of it. _

* * *

__

The light died out to nothingness around him, brilliance fading to dust, his memories clawing at the surface of his mind, still raw and vivid, determination and defeat warring inside him, the acknowledgement that they had all lost a bitter pill he was now forced to swallow anew. Blue eyes brimmed with powerless anger, shoulders hunching as he gazed at Tetsu, at Kagami, standing in front of him, still fighting, still unwilling to give up.

“I …lost? I see. We all… lost.” Words spoken haltingly, unwilling, a reluctance to accept the truth though he felt its reality deep in his bones. 

“Why are you acting like it’s all over, Aho?” Kagami interjected, a challenge coated in his words that Aomine did not fail to recognize. “Things are merely getting started again. We will defeat him this time. Without doubt!” A ball of light materialized in his hands, similar and yet unlike Aomine’s own, its surface crackling in a myriad of interwoven colors. Kagami shot it towards the blue haired archmage, movements fluid and ingrained, a familiarity to those motions that spoke of days spent solely in the presence of each other, one on one matches lasting long in the night.

“Shut up, idiot,” the blue haired mage grinned, the challenge accepted, light sizzling around his hands as he caught the ball, his magic mingling with that of the other. “Of course, we will.” The throw was almost bored, a casual shot over his shoulder, eyes turned away from the hoop that had reappeared above their heads, and still the ball flew true, light barely grazing the darkness as it fell through the shadowy mass.

The scenery shifted, changed, the dueling grounds washed away to leave only verdant green and glass in their wake, a transparent surface lingering beneath their feet, the blue skies stretching above. A terrace appeared in place of the crumbling ground of Teiko, one placed above one of the many greenhouses of Aomine’s youth, the wind blowing softly between the ruffling leaves scattered around its surface. The image remained locked in place, unwavering, another crack in the already crumbling curse. 

“Two more, Tetsu. Best be on your way now. Time’s up,” Aomine grinned, hands moving to ruffled the shadow mage’s hair in a familiar manner, his gaze lingering a moment longer on Kagami, before the colors started bleeding out, fading even as the Sepulcher embraced them once more.

Kuroko found himself standing in front of Aomine’s portrait once more; the star shone with more brilliance, its warm light illuminating the Hermit’s previously shadowed features. Haughty features had given way to a soft smile, a ball of light resting casually in the mage’s hands, replacing the spear of before. Behind him, with a small and secretive smile on her face, a pink haired figure was partially obscured by the shadows, a dark blue cloak shielding her from sight.


End file.
